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cheer-up  Letters 

From  a  Private  with  Pershing 


TORREY   FORD 


} CHEER-UP    LETTERS 

FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH 
PERSHING  ^ 


BY 


TORREY  FORD 

U.    S.    ARMY   AMBULAl^CE    SERVICE 


o 

NEW  YORK 
EDWARD  J.  CLODE 


F^ 


COPYRIGHT,    191 8 
BY    EDWARD   J.    CLODE 


Printtd  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  Few  Words  by  his  Dad 7 

Allentown,  Pa.,  Monday,  Aug.  6,  I9i7>  lo  a.m 19 

Allentown,  Pa.,  Monday  night,  August  6 22 

Tuesday  morning,  August  7,  1917 24 

6  a.m.   Tuesday,  August  7 28 

On  Board,  Tuesday,  August  7 28 

At  Sea 29 

Another  Day 33 

Another  Day 3^ 

August  27,  1917 38 

August  28,  Somewhere  in  France 43 

August  soth     45 

September  2,  Sunday 48 

Tuesday,  September  S 5^ 

September  7      *  S3 

September  13 55 

September  14 57 

Friday,  September  21      5^ 

September  25 60 

Wednesday,  October  5 63 

October  9 69 

October  12  {It  ought  to  be  Columbus  Day  but  it  ain't) 72 

Saturday,  October  13 78 

October  14 80 

October  16  —  Tuesday 83 

November  $      9* 

November  7 95 

November  10 98 

November  13 10* 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

November  15 104 

November  20 108 

November  25 1 12 

November  24 1 16 

Sunday,  November  25 118 

Wednesday,  November  28 121 

November  30 125 

Sunday,  December  9 127 

December  10 130 

Friday,  December  14. 134 

Saturday,  December  /j 138 

Tuesday,  December  18 I42 

Grand  Hotel,  Paris,  December  26      145 

December  28,  Hotel  Victoria,  Biarritz,  France 148 

Biarritz,  Sunday,  December  30 151 

Paris,  January  7,  1918 158 

Paris,  January  15 i6r 

Paris,  January  23 165 

Paris,  January  29 167 

Paris,  February  7 170 

Paris,  February  ij 172 

Paris,  February  ig 174 

Paris,  February  22,  igi8 176 

Chantilly,  Sunday,  February  24 177 

Chantilly  (Oise),  February  27 182 

Chantilly,  March  4      184 

Nancy,  March  7,  1918 187 

March  11      189 


A  FEW  WORDS   BY  HIS  DAD 

If  anyone  read  introductions  to  books, 
the  writing  of  this  one  by  me  might  be 
considered  as  rather  a  difficult  piece  of  work: 
that  is,  one  requiring  nice  discriminations 
of  reticence  and  confidences,  —  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  But  as  the  average  reader  has 
much  more  common  sense  than  the  pub- 
lisher usually  credits  him  with,  he  generally 
skips  those  first  few  pages  impudently  set 
up  between  him  and  the  author  and  never 
bothers  his  head  whether  they're  good  or 
bad. 

He  is  perfectly  right.  In  most  cases 
introductions  are  not  worth  while.  At  least, 
that  has  been  my  experience.  If  done  by 
the  author  himself,  it  is  often  merely  an 
excuse  for  him  to  get  up  on  stilts,  assume 
an  exaggerated  pose  of  modesty,  and  repeat 
something  which  he  has  said  much  better  in 

7 


8  A   FEW   WORDS   BY  HIS   DAD 

the  body  of  the  text.  When  the  introducing 
is  done  by  a  third  party,  the  result  is  seldom 
happy.  If  he  insists  enthusiastically  that 
here  is  a  book  of  great  merit,  he  is  apt  to 
imply  that  unless  you  agree  with  him  at  once 
you're  stupid.  If  he  doesn't  so  insist  — 
well,  what  is  he  there  for,  anyway? 

True,  once  in  a  while,  comes  a  book 
which  seems  to  need  a  few  words,  either 
of  apology  or  explanation  or  both.  This 
appears  to  be  such  a  volume.  It  is  difficult 
for  me  to  judge  whether  or  no  the  material 
used  in  the  following  pages  may  prove 
sufficiently  interesting  to  warrant  publi- 
cation in  this  form.  I  don't  in  the  least 
mind  saying  that  these  letters,  as  they 
came  to  us  —  the  "Dear  Family"  of  the 
address  —  were  read  and  reread  with  lively 
interest.  When  one  showed  up  in  the  morn- 
ing's mail,  scribbled  perhaps  on  a  troop 
train  or  on  the  deck  of  a  transport,  or  in 
a  chilly  tent  somewhere  along  the  French 
front  —  well,  it  was  something  of  an  event. 
Read  them  with  interest!  Why,  on  the 
mere   excuse   of  a   casual   inquiry  we   have 


A   FEW   WORDS   BY  HIS   DAD  9 

been  able  to  quote  paragraphs,  word  for 
word,  until  no  doubt  many  of  our  friends 
learned  to  avoid  the  subject.  Still,  there 
were  others  who  always  wanted  to  hear 
more.  They  said  they  did.  You  know  how 
friends  are. 

So  I  shall  not  deny  my  own  appreciation 
of  these  cheerfully  written  pages.  You  see, 
I've  known  the  author  rather  well  for  some 
twenty  odd  years,  —  that  is,  I  thought  I 
knew  him  well.  We  never  quite  can  admit 
the  limitations  of  our  understanding  in  such 
instances,  can  we.^  He  has  been  rather 
closely  associated  with  me,  at  least,  for  that 
length  of  time.  Latterly,  he  has  been  put 
to  that  supreme  test  of  having  endured  me 
for  several  seasons  as  a  frequent  golf  partner. 
I  don't  care  to  count  how  many  foursome 
matches  he's  dragged  me  through.  Anyway, 
I  owe  him  a  lot  on  that  score.  Merely 
writing  a  preface  for  his  first  book  will  do 
little  towards  balancing  the  account,  but  it 
may  help. 

The  fact  that  the  author  also  happens 
to  call  me  "Pop"  to  my  face  and  "Dad" 


lO         A    FEW    WORDS    BY   HIS    DAD 

behind  my  back  we  need  not  dwell  on. 
It  is  mentioned  merely  by  the  way.  You 
have  the  right  to  know.  You  would  have 
guessed,  anyway.  Perhaps  it  may  explain 
a  certain  forbearance  in  the  golf  partner- 
ship alluded  to.  And  it  gives  me  a  stand- 
ing as  an  introducer.  Having  established 
that,  I  may  go  on  to  say  how  these  letters 
came  to  be  written. 

When  President  Wilson  declared  that  a 
state  of  war  existed  between  the  United 
States  and  the  Imperial  German  Govern- 
ment —  that  was  how  it  started,  wasn't 
it  .^  —  Torrey  had  been  for  several  months 
acting  as  dramatic  editor  of  the  Boston 
Traveler.  For  a  young  man  with  barely 
a  half  year  of  newspaper  experience  behind 
him,  it  was  rather  a  big  job.  But  he  liked 
the  work  and,  much  to  my  surprise,  he 
seemed  to  be  making  good.  And  when  a 
youngster  has  been  drifting  around  some- 
what vaguely  for  a  year  or  so  after  finishing 
at  college,  that  means  a  lot.  He  had  found 
himself. 

If  you  had  asked  me  I  should  have  said 


A    FEW    WORDS    BY   HIS    DAD  ii 

that  his  military  tendencies  were  null. 
Without  being  at  all  a  mollycoddle  or  any- 
thing like  it,  he  was  distinctly  a  peace- 
preferring  person.  As  a  rule  he  was  un- 
aggressive. The  exceptions  were  when  he 
was  making  a  pitch  and  run  approach  shot 
at  a  critical  point  in  a  golf  match,  or  when 
he  was  bidding  his  hand  at  bridge.  He  was 
expert  as  a  side-tracker  of  wrath  by  means 
of  the  soft  answer,  and  his  Dad's  inaptitude 
along  that  line  often  troubled  him. 

Probably  he  was  as  patriotic  as  the 
average.  He  never  mentioned  it.  He  was 
much  too  tolerant  to  harbor  strong  racial 
prejudices.  His  dislike  for  the  Germans 
seemed  to  be  no  more  pronounced  than  his 
distaste  for  boiled  onions  or  early  break- 
fasts. True,  after  the  Lusitania  incident, 
he  always  referred  to  them  as  Huns. 

But  the  possibility  of  his  ever  becoming 
a  soldier  appeared  remote.  Wearing  any 
sort  of  uniform  did  not  appeal  to  him.  The 
call  of  Plattsburg  he  ignored.  His  ways 
were  civilian  ways.  I  doubt  if  he  had  ever 
fired  off  a  gun  of  larger  caliber  than  a  .22. 


12  A   FEW   WORDS    BT   HIS    DAD 

I  am  quite  sure  he  had  never  looked  upon 
a  corpse,  or  seen  a  severely  wounded  person. 

And  then  came  the  war.  Early  in  the 
spring  of  191 7,  if  you  remember,  we  hardly 
realized  that  we  were  in  it.  Very  few  of  us, 
at  least.  Oh,  something  ought  to  be  done 
about  those  Belgian  and  Armenian  out- 
rages, of  course!  The  submarine  horrors 
must  be  stopped.  The  Allies  should  be 
helped.  But  most  of  us  were  a  little  vague 
as  to  how  it  should  be  accomplished.  Prob- 
ably we  would  not  be  directly  affected  — 
not  personally. 

As  for  us,  we  made  our  usual  plans  for 
spending  the  summer  in  New  England.  It 
was  Torrey  who  found  for  us  a  South  Shore 
cottage  three  blocks  from  a  golf  course, 
one  from  the  ocean,  and  within  commuting 
distance  of  his  office.  We  were  all  nicely 
settled  and  were  looking  forward  to  a  quiet, 
peaceful  summer  as  a  reunited  family. 

He  took  us,  as  he  had  several  times  before, 
to  the  Harvard  Class  Day  exercises  at  the 
Stadium.  They  did  their  best,  that  little 
handful  of  graduates,  to  reproduce  the  gay 


A   FEW    WORDS    BT   HIS    DAD  13 

and  brilliant  spectacle  of  former  years. 
There  was  no  lack  of  confetti  and  colored 
streamers.  But  although  the  June  sun  shone 
brightly,  Mars  scowled  across  the  arena. 
Most  of  the  few  seniors  present  were  in  olive 
drab.  Many  were  absent  at  training  camps. 
Many  of  the  recently  graduated  classes  were 
not  represented  at  all.  The  exercises  were 
cut  short.     The  slim  crowd  trailed  out. 

We  had  planned  to  spend  the  evening  in 
the  Yard.  Half  an  hour  of  wandering  past 
acres  of  vacant  camp  chairs  was  enough. 
Japanese  lanterns  had  been  strung,  bands 
were  playing.  But  the  place  was  gloomy. 
Even  the  subdued  carnival  spirit  which 
usually  marks  the  end  of  Class  Day  could 
not  be  summoned.  I  suppose  the  Glee  Club 
sang  on  the  steps,  no  doubt  there  were  the 
traditional  "spreads."  We  did  not  stay  to 
see.  We  drove  home  and  talked  about  the 
war. 

It  was  the  next  day,  I  think,  that  Torrey, 
after  spending  a  few  hours  in  Boston,  came 
back  with  a  new  look  in  his  eyes,  a  con- 
fident  smile   lurking   in   his   mouth   corners, 


14  A    FEW    WORDS    BT  HIS    DAD 

a  livelier  spring  to  his  step.  He  was  happy, 
all  through.  And  after  a  moment  or  two 
he  announced,  — 

"Well,  I  have  a  new  job  —  with  Uncle 
Sam!" 

He  had  enlisted  in  one  of  the  ambulance 
units  then  being  organized  by  the  New 
York  Harvard  Club.  We  learned  that  for 
some  time  his  name  had  been  on  the  lists 
of  possible  volunteers.  He  had  joined  by 
telegraph,  taken  his  physical  examination, 
and  been  accepted.  He  also  admitted  that 
months  previous  he  had  tried  to  get  into 
the  infantry,  but  had  been  refused  because 
he  was  slightly  under  the  minimum  height. 
Two  days  later  he  was  ordered  to  report 
for  duty  at  Allentown,   Pennsylvania. 

It  all  seemed  to  happen  quite  abruptly, 
as  if  a  great  mailed  paw  had  suddenly 
reached  out  and  taken  him  away.  Many 
family  circles  were  having  the  same  experi- 
ence. We  felt  that,  too.  And  we  began 
to  realize  the  necessity  of  it  all.  We  knew 
now  that  this  war  was  our  war.  We  began 
to  feel  rather  proud  that  it  was. 


A   FEW    WORDS   BT  HIS    DAD  15 

We  were  entertained  by  his  letters  from 
the  Ambulance  Camp.  It  was  interesting 
to  note  how  quickly  he  adapted  himself  to 
military  discipline,  military  ways,  yet  how 
persistent  was  his  distaste  for  nearly  every 
feature  of  it.  I  think  he  found  answering 
the  5.30  A.M.  reveille  hardest  of  all.  Next 
to  that,  the  prevalence  of  stews  in  the  menu. 
But  he  found  humor  in  everything,  even 
when  a  panicky  junior  officer  diagnosed  his 
mild  case  of  tonsilitis  as  diphtheria  and 
routed  him  out  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
to  be  marched  off  to  the  contagious  ward 
of  the  Allentown  hospital. 

For  several  weeks  he  tried  to  assure  us 
that  the  prospects  of  his  being  sent  abroad 
were  so  distant  as  not  to  be  worth  talking 
about.  He  was  quite  sure  that  winter  would 
still  find  him  in  Allentown.  But  late  in 
July  we  learned  from  other  sources  that 
several  sections  had  been  fully  equipped  and 
might  be  sent  over  at  any  time.  So  we 
made  a  hasty  trip  to  the  Camp,  arriving  one 
hot  Friday.  On  the  following  day  we 
watched   nine  hundred  of  the  men   paraded 


l6         A    FEW    WORDS    BT   HIS    DAD 

In  heavy  marching  order  and  officially  re- 
viewed. Torrey  was  among  them.  Also  he 
had  just  been  given  a  forty  hours'  leave. 
So  as  soon  as  the  review  was  over  we  all 
started  for  our  summer  home. 

How  he  did  seem  to  enjoy  those  few  hours 
—  driving  a  car  once  more,  having  a  dip 
In  the  surf,  a  few  holes  of  golf,  and  two 
real  home  cooked  meals.  And  as  he  boarded 
the  train  back  to  Camp  he  Insisted  once 
more  that  this  wasn't  *' Good-bye."  "I'll 
have  a  real  leave  soon.  You'll  see."  Forty- 
eight  hours  later  he  was  on  a  transport. 

He  has  now  been  In  France  since  some 
time  In  August,  1917,  having  landed  at 
a  little  seaport  a  few  weeks  after  General 
Pershing's  first  forces  disembarked  there. 
The  following  letters  describe  fairly  com- 
pletely his  doings  since  then.  True,  owing 
to  the  restrictions  of  the  censor,  he  has  not 
attempted  to  tell  all  that  he  saw  of  actual 
warfare.  But  that  has  been  done  by  others 
who  have  seen  much  more  and  whose  pens 
were  not  so  restricted.  Besides,  you  will 
please   remember   he   Is   ever   attempting   to 


A   FEW    WORDS   BT  HIS   DAD  17 

convince  a  credulous  family  that  war,  as 
he  indulges  in  it,  is  really  little  more  than 
a  somewhat  thrilling  outdoor  pastime,  rather 
healthful  and  not  at  all  hazardous.  Safe? 
Oh  my,  yes!     He  insists  on  this. 

But  aside  from  this  well-meant  camou- 
flage, it  seems  to  me  that  there  runs  through 
all  the  letters  a  genuine  note  of  optimism 
which,  if  anything,  makes  them  worth  while. 
It  may  be  only  the  generic  optimism  of 
youth.  I  would  not  care  to  say  that  it  is 
peculiarly  an  American  optimism.  But  it 
is  very  genuine.  It  never  fails.  Always 
he  seems  to  be  making  the  best  of  things 
as  they  come  along  —  just  as  your  son  or 
brother  is  doing,  or  will  do  when  he  gets 
into  the  thick  of  the  sad  mess. 

And  with  a  thought  that  perhaps  this 
cheerful  view  of  war  might  bring  a  smile 
to  faces  where  smiles  have  been  few  of  late, 
I  send  these  letters  of  Torrey's  to  the  press. 

Fraternally  yours, 

Sewell  Ford 


Cheer -up  Letters 

From  a  Private  with  Pershing 


Allentown,  Pa. 

Monday,  Aug.  6,  1917,  10  a.m. 
Dear  Family: 

When  I  blew  into  Camp  this  morning 
at  5.15  A.M.  the  first  fellow  I  met  from  our 
Section  offered  the  information  that  we  were 
ordered  to  be  packed  to  leave  at  10  o'clock; 
baggage  to  be  ready  at  8,  and  shoulder 
packs   at   9. 

I  refused  to  believe,  as  usual,  and  went 
about  the  business  of  packing  up  leisurely 
and  none  too  carefully.  I  sent  some  one 
down  for  the  sweater  you  left  at  the  hotel, 
bought  a  money  belt,  and  got  everything 
into  my  barracks  bag  by  a  miracle.  I  made 
a  skinny  roll  to  carry  on  my  back,  folded 
my  cot,  packed  the  suit  case  for  Walzer  to 


19 


20  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

express  home,  and  gave  him  dope  about  the 
telegrams  to  you. 

Now  we  are  all  ready  and  have  answered 
roll  call.  My  guess  all  along  has  been  that 
it  is  just  for  practice.  In  fact,  I  have 
wagered  to  the  extent  of  33-  that  we  don't 
leave  today.  Even  at  the  present  moment, 
with  the  majority  confidently  expecting  to 
be  on  board  in  a  few  hours,  I  am  doubtful. 
You  will  have  had  a  telegram  before  this 
telling  you  whether  I  was   right  or  wrong. 

As  for  leaving  now,  I'm  hoping  it's  true. 
We  couldn't  leave  at  a  better  time  for  me. 
I've  been  home  and  had  the  very  best  time 
I  ever  had.  You  can't  imagine  how  I  did 
enjoy  every  single  minute  of  it.  I  hope 
Uncle  Sam  will  have  sense  enough  not  to 
keep  me  too  long  away  from  such  a  won- 
derful home  and  family.  If  I  missed  the 
things  you  were  going  to  send,  they  were 
mostly  luxuries  anyway.  And  I  think  you 
can  send  things  over  to  me. 

If  you  do  not  get  any  other  address  write 
here  to  AUentown  and  it  will  be  forwarded. 
The  Postmaster  said  that  everything  —  let- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     21 

ters,  papers  and  packages  —  would  be  for- 
warded to  us. 

I  had  an  easy  trip  through,  slept  from 
Boston  down,  after  a  milk  toast  dinner  in 
the  diner,  got  on  board  the  Allentown  train 
at  midnight,  climbed  into  an  upper,  and 
slept  like  a  top  until  quarter  of  five.  Had 
breakfast  down  town  and  made  in  at  the 
gate  at  5.15.     And  I  feel  like  a  king  now. 

It*s  getting  toward  11  o'clock  now  and 
the  fellows  are  beginning  to  get  leery  about 
our  leaving  today. 

Lucky  I  took  that  5.10  out  of  Boston,  as 
the  Federal  Express  was  late  and  missed 
connections. 

rU  remember  every  minute  that  I  was 
home.  If  it  was  my  going-away  party,  it 
was  the  best  anyone  could  ask. 

It  is  now  nearly  3  o'clock  (p.m.)  and  we 
have  been  given  no  further  orders.  I'll 
send  this  off  and  write  the  outcome  later. 
I  have  a  feeling  now  that  maybe  they  will 
march  us  off  late  this  afternoon.  A  fellow 
in  the  Q.M.  Dep't.  said  our  stuff  was  labeled 
Pier   I,   Hoboken,   but  that   may  be   rumor. 


22 


CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


Allentown,  Pa. 
Monday  night,  August  6 
Dear  Family: 

I  GUESS  it  is  true  we  are  going  and  I  am 
thrilled  to  pieces.  Just  as  I  was  ready  to 
believe  it  was  all  off  the  trucks  backed  up 
at  2.30  and  took  our  luggage.  Then  we 
were  assembled  and  told  to  sleep  in  our 
uniforms  tonight,  not  even  to  take  off  our 
shoes  —  equipment  under  our  cots,  and  when 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    23 

the  order  comes,  to  march  out  quietly. 
We  are  expecting  it  about  midnight.  I 
couldn't  imagine  any  more  exciting  way  of 
leaving. 

I  think  we'll  go  right  to  the  transport 
and  maybe  sail  out  around  dawn.  If  you 
don't  hear  from  me  again  you'll  know  that's 
what  happened. 

It  may  be  weeks  before  a  letter  can  get 
back.  But  I'll  cable  if  they  let  me  —  just 
"Arrived." 

I  don't  see  how  I  can  sleep  a  wink  until 
the  order  comes. 

I  have  everything  I  need,  even  to  some 
asperin  and  seidlitz  powders.  They  paid 
us  today  which  gives  me  an  even  one 
hundred  dollars  to  start  with  and  I'll  keep 
plenty  for  an  emergency. 

Wasn't  it  perfectly  fine  that  you  came 
on,  and  that  I  could  go  back  with  you,  and 
that  we  could  all  have  such  a  good  time 
together.? 

And  I  am  glad  to  be  going. 

Write  to  Major  Yale  here  at  Allentown 
for    our    address.     And    send    other    letters 


24  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to   me   here,   "care   Section    12,"   to  be  for- 
warded to  France. 

Loads  and  loads  of  love  from 

TORREY 


{Telegram  from  Allentown,  Pennsylvania, 
August  y) 

Torrey   Ford   left   last   night,   presumably 
for  transportation. 

G.  W. 

En  Route.     1.30  a.m. 

{Marked   on   the   envelope:     ^^  From   a   soldier. 
Please  mail.'') 


Tuesday  morning,  August  7,  IQI/^ 
Dear  Family: 

It  was  thrilling  and  spooky.  I  was 
wakened  from  a  sound  sleep  by  Asher  Hinds 
whispering  excitedly  in  my  ear:  *'I  think 
they're    calling    Section    10."     Scufflings    in 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    25 

the  darkness,  with  an  occasional  gleam  of 
a  flashlight.  I  glanced  at  my  watch.  It 
was  only  eleven  o'clock  and  the  first  thing 
I  thought  of  was  the  three  dollars  I'd  lose 
if  we  got  out  of  the  gates  by  twelve. 

An  N.  C.  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
whispered,  **  Outside."  Before  any  of  us 
had  really  rubbed  our  eyes,  we  were  outside, 
as  you  saw  us  equipped  Saturday,  and  the 
cots  folded  up.  The  first  march  towards 
France  was  single  file  down  to  the  Quarter- 
master's Department  to  turn  in  our  cots. 
I  suppose  if  there  hadn't  been  a  full  number 
of  cots  or  anyone  had  tried  to  smuggle  one 
off^  to  France  in  his  vest  pocket,  we'd  have 
quit  the  war  until  all  had  been  receipted  for 
by  the  Q.  M. 

Then  we  hiked  over  to  the  mess  hall  — 
coffee,  orange  and  three  ham  sandwiches 
—  which  was  more  than  anyone  needed  or 
expected. 

Only  here  and  there  a  sleepy-eyed  group 
of  fellows  were  up  to  see  the  doings  and  call 
"Good-bye."  Everyone  spoke  in  whispers. 
Commands  were  given  so  softly  that  you  had 


26  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  watch  your  neighbor  and  do  what  he  did 
—  and  you  halted  by  bumping  your  chin 
against  someone's  haversack. 

Section  ii,  the  Harvard  boys  who  didn't 
go,  watched  us  leave  the  barracks  and  almost 
wept.     We  all  hope  they'll  join  us  soon. 

We  assembled  in  battalion  form  on  that 
plot  of  ground  in  front  of  the  mess  hall. 
The  simple  order  came  to  "Forward  march," 
just  as  it  always  has  been  given,  and.  we 
passed  out  of  the  gates  at  12.25,  which  made 
me  three  dollars  richer  by  a  pretty  slim 
margin. 

We  turned  to  the  right  and  halted.  I 
heard  an  engine  whistle,  and  right  there,  one 
block  away  from  Camp  on  a  side  track  I 
never  knew  existed,  was  a  long  string  of  cars 
with  two  big  engines. 

There  were,  perhaps,  twenty-five  people, 
including  a  few  mothers  who  came  scurry- 
ing up  to  say  good-bye.  They  must  have 
camped  outside  the  gate  and  waited.  I 
much  preferred  the  way  we  said  good-bye 
at  North  Scituate. 

As  we  boarded  the  train,  still  with  whis- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    27 

pered  commands,  I  thought  of  the  Spanish 
War  soldiers  as  they  left  Hackensack.  The 
new  way  of  leaving  is  lots  easier  on  the 
emotions. 

We  got  into  a  comfortable  day  coach 
and  pulled  out  in  a  few  minutes.  It  cer- 
tainly has  been  efficient  management  so  far. 

After  a  few  songs  and  a  little  excitement, 
most  of  the  boys  have  settled  down  to  sleep. 
The  conductor 
says  we  are  di 
in  New  York 
four  o'clock. 

I  am  going 


try  to  toss  this  to  someone  to  mail  when  it 
gets  light. 

A  "comfort  bag"  which  was  given  out  late 
Monday  afternoon  I  have  stuffed  full  of 
food.     I  have  to  carry  it  in  my  hand.     Got 


28  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

by  with  it  in  the  darkness  and  should  be 
able  to  carry  it  on.  The  pockets  of  my 
cartridge  belt  are  stuffed  with  cigarettes, 
matches,  and  medicine. 

Don't  feel  badly  about  the  things  I  didn't 
take  because  every  inch  of  my  packing  space 
is  taken. 

We  are  going  through  Easton  now  and 
I'm  going  to  try  for  some  sleep. 

Gee,  I'm  glad  I  had  that  night  and  day  at 
home ! 

{Written  on  a  picture  post  card) 

6  A.M.  Tuesday,  August  y 
We  are  on  board  a  ferry  bound  for  the 
transport  —  still  thrilled.  Rumor  has  it  that 
we  will  probably  stay  on  board  down  the 
harbor  somewhere  for  a  couple  of  days  be- 
fore sailing.  Everyone  feeling  fine. 
This  may  be  last  word. 

(Written  on  a  Western  Union  Telegram 
blank) 
On  Board,  Tuesday,  August  7 
Actually    here     and     very    comfortably 
located  for  the  trip.     All  branches  of  service 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING    29 

represented.  Just  had  fine  breakfast  with 
regular  home  coffee.  Boat  has  good  decks 
and  recreation  rooms.  Even  has  several 
shower  baths.  Hope  you  got  letter  I  sent 
from  Jersey  City.  Had  on  back  "From 
soldier  —  please  mail."  Everyone  is  very 
much  excited.  Don't  look  for  another  letter 
for  month  at  least.  Guess  I  won't  need 
many  sweaters  until  we  have  something 
besides  this  kind  of  weather.  The  piano 
is  banging  away,  singing  going  on,  and 
everyone  is  very  happy.  It's  almost  like 
a  Cook's  tour. 

{Cablegram,  dated  Paris,  August  51) 

Safe,  well. 

(Signed)         Ford 


{Received  September  ii,  1917) 

At  Sea 
Dear  Family: 

When  I  finished  reading  the  censorship 
regulations,  I  decided  that  if  any  letters  were 
ever  to  pass  through,   they  would  have  to 


30  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

be  limited  to  the  weather  and  personal 
hygiene.  So  far  there  has  been  plenty  of 
the  former  but  very  little  personal  hygiene. 
Until  today,  each  day  has  been  a  little  more 
wonderful  than  the  one  before.  The  sea 
was  never  glassy,  but  hardly  more  mo- 
tion than  a  ferry  ride  across  the  Hudson. 
It's  been  so  warm  that  we  hardly  wore  a 
sweater,  except  occasionally  evenings.  There 
hasn't  been  any  moon  to  make  us  sorry 
when  the  call  came  to  go  below,  but  then 
there  isn't  even  a  Red  Cross  nurse  to  go 
with  a  moon.  We've  had  to  put  away  the 
pipes  and  cigarettes  each  night  as  the  sun 
dropped  into  the  ocean,  but  it  is  worth 
it  just  to  see  her  go  down  and  tint  up  the 
clouds. 

Today  we  woke  up  to  fog,  a  little  mist, 
and  a  choppy  sea.  But  no  one  seems  to 
care,  as  the  other  days  were  growing 
monotonous. 

So  far,  there's  been  little  chance  to  find 
out  who  were  the  sailors.  About  one  out 
of  every  twenty  has  fed  the  fishes  and  re- 
covered. 


FROM  A  PRIVArE   WITH  PERSHING    31 

There  isn't  anything  about  travelHng  on 
the  ocean  that  I  don't  hke,  and  you  can 
imagine  that  this  trip  has  its  thrills.  Of 
course,  it  is  a  bit  tough  not  to  have  a  brass 
bed  stateroom,  nor  be  invited  up  in  the 
Captain's  room  for  bridge  —  but  it  is  some- 
thing to  camp  down  on  the  lee  promenade 
deck  and  play  poker  from  one  mess  bugle 
to  another.  It  is  funny  that  I  should  know 
the  Captain.  He  asked  about  Donald  and 
if  I  still  had  the  Marion. 

Each  day  we  have  an  hour  of  exercise 
just  to  keep  from  growing  too  soft.  There 
are  occasional  details  of  work  that  everyone 
tries  to  duck  but  really  enjoys  doing.  Day 
before  yesterday  I  spent  in  the  mess  hall, 
dealing  out  food  to  the  flocks  of  hungry 
soldiers  as  they  came  by  with  their  kits. 
I  expected  to  starve,  but  the  food  has  Allen- 
town  skinned  in  every  way.  And  how  we 
do  eat! 

Of  course,  no  one  thought  to  bring  candy 
except  some  of  the  boat's  crew.  Two  days 
after  we  sailed  a  five  cent  bar  of  chocolate 
was  quoted  at  somewhere  around  thirty-five 


32  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

cents,  but  there  were  more  buyers  than 
chocolate.  I  figured  that  I  had  four  ciga- 
rettes a  day  for  the  trip  and  that  was  more 
than  many  had.  But  after  a  while  someone 
remembered  that  the  Post  Exchange  back 
at  Camp  had  packed  a  box  for  each  section. 
We  found  the  boxes  down  in  the  hold  — 
with  eighty-five  dollars'  worth  of  candy 
and  tobacco  for  each  section.  That  helped 
things  along  a  lot,  but  chocolate  hasn't 
dropped  any  in  price. 

Mixing  in  with  the  regulars  has  been 
interesting.  They  call  us  the  "hospital" 
and  don't  seem  to  mind  when  we  take  more 
privileges  than  they  dare. 

The  majority  are  eager  to  land.  I  could 
stand  a  lot  more  of  this  lazy  life.  The 
ocean  is  certainly  bigger  than  I  ever  knew 
it  before.  No  one  seems  to  have  the  slight- 
est idea  what  we're  to  do  when  we  do  get 
there.  Everyone  hopes  to  be  stationed  right 
in  Paris  for  the  rest  of  the  war,  but  likely 
they  have  other  plans  for  us. 

It  is  rather  a  relief  to  have  everything 
planned  for  you  and  never  to  take  the  least 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING    33 

responsibility.  We  are  even  told  how  many 
times  to  bathe  and  when  to  wash  our  teeth. 
When  they  had  ^underwear  inspection  the 
other  day,  I  thought  it  was  a  bit  too  much. 


Another  Day 
Since  I  wrote,  we  have  had  a  southeast 
rainstorm,  a  glorious  cold  October  day  when 


everyone  wore  all  their  sweaters,  and  now 
summer  again.  There's  hardly  a  person 
aboard  who  Isn't  ready  to  see  land  now. 
Because  nothing  happens.     The   poker  con- 


34  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

tinues,  so  do  the  dried  peaches,  and  some- 
one doesn't  answer  a  roll  call  —  but  there's 
nothing  more  to  help  us  remember  that 
we're  alive. 

We  have  official  rumors  now  —  and  just 
plain  rumors  —  that  float  from  one  end  of 
the  ship  to  the  other,  telling  when  and  where 
we  land.  Probably  someone  knows  —  but 
no  one  tells. 

Our  mathematics  shark  notes  the  changes 
in  time  and  one  day  figures  we  are  one  thou- 
sand miles  away  and  again  that  we  have 
already  arrived.  His  deductions  are  lengthy 
and  amusing. 

The  daily  change  in  time  is  the  one  big 
event  of  the  day.  Wrist  watches  at  best 
are  none  too  accurate,  and  trying  to  keep 
them  in  harmony  with  the  ship's  bells  means 
the  grandest  turning  of  hands  from  sunrise 
to  sunset.  The  ''dough-boys"  are  a  little 
scornful  of  wrist  watches.  I  don't  know 
what  would  happen  if  they  saw  our  swagger 
sticks. 

Someone  who  wasn't  a  math,  shark  figured 
that   every  match   lights   one  hundred  ciga- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    35 

rettes.  One  lighted  cigarette  serves  as  punk 
for  everyone  in  sight. 

There  is  lots  about  the  trip  I'll  have  to 
save  until  I  get  back.  It  is  all  so  new  and 
interesting  that  I'll  probably  remember  it 
all. 

It  looks  as  though  mail  service  between 
North  Scituate  and  me  would  be  anything 
but  speedy.  If  cables  don't  run  too  high, 
I'll  try  and  send  over  a  word  occasionally. 
But  if  letters  don't  come  too  often  there  are 
probably  a  thousand  ways  of  their  getting 
lost.  I  might  unconsciously  let  slip  some 
valuable  military  information  and  the  censor 
would  do  the  rest.  The  field  post  cards 
won't  be  interesting  but  they  stand  the 
best  chance  of  getting  through. 

I'll  land  with  ninety-seven  dollars  in  my 
pocket  and  thirty-six  dollars  more  coming 
the  first  of  every  month,  so  I'm  not  worry- 
ing any  financially. 

I've  learned  to  count  up  to  ten  in  French 
and  am  trusting  to  the  honesty  of  the 
merchants  for  the  rest.  We  have  various 
volunteer  interpreters  and  Asher  Hinds   has 


36  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

promised  to  stay  by  my  side.  My  six  years 
of  German  will  probably  be  as  useful  as 
my  year  of  botany. 

Salt-water  shaving  is  my  latest  achieve- 
ment. With  marine  soap,  it  isn't  so  bad 
if  you  are  careful  and  the  ship  doesn't  rock 
too  much.  The  daily  salt-water  shower  is 
refreshing  but  crowded.  I  found  someone 
scrubbing  my  foot  the  other  morning. 

The  most  encouraging  part  of  the  trip 
has  been  that  we  all  know  each  other  a 
lot  better  than  we  did  in  Allentown  and 
have  banded  together  into  a  very  friendly 
crowd  for  whatever  we  have  to  go  through. 
I  could  hardy  pick  a  better  crowd  of  fellows 
for  it. 


Another  Day 
It*s  about  noon  and  we  are  quietly  drift- 
ing into  port.  When  we  sighted  land  a 
few  hours  ago  and  finally  came  into  quiet 
water,  it  was  probably  the  happiest  moment 
in  the  lives  of  everyone  on  board.  We've 
had   enough   entertainment   lately   to   please 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSINHG    37 

anyone  who  objected  to  the  monotony.  All 
the  moving  pictures  I've  seen  that  had  sub- 
marines, destroyers,  airplanes,  and  steamers 
couldn't  match  it.  It  seemed  to  me  just 
like  watching  an  exciting  ball  game,  where 
you  win  in  about  the  fourteenth  inning  and 
everyone  rocks  with  joy  and  relief. 

And  now  we're  here!  The  air  is  buzzing 
with  airplanes,  the  water  is  dotted  with 
small  sails,  funny  colored.  We've  passed 
a  few  foreigners,  who  waved.  The  little 
tugs  dip  their  colors  as  we  pass. 

I'm  as  curious  to  land  and  see  it  all  as 
the  greenest  greenhorn.  Nor  do  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  impatient  waits  while  the  officers 
decide  where  and  when  we  shall  go. 

A  fishing  boat  just  went  by  with  a  red 
mainsail  and  a  green  topsail! 

My  address  will  be 

U.  S.  Army  Ambulance  Service 
Section  12 
U.  S.  Expeditionary  Force. 

That  is  all  that  is  required.  No  country 
is   allowed   because  you   aren't   supposed   to 


38  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

know  who  we  are  at  war  with,  I  guess. 
Wherever  the  letters  are  mailed,  they  are 
forwarded  to  New  York  and  sent  on  to  the 
proper  place.  Probably  this  will  have  been 
mailed  in  New  York,  too.  I'm  quite  sure 
that  the  mails  carry  post  packages. 

I'm  going  below  now  to  pack  up  a  few 
things  and  then  will  come  the  long  wait 
for  the  order  to  go  ashore.  We're  said 
to  be  two  miles  from  the  dock  at  present. 

Loads  of  love  and  don't  do  any  worrying 
for  a  long  time  yet. 


Augtist  27,  IQ17 
Dear  Family: 

When  your  letters  came  into  Camp  this 
afternoon,  it  didn't  seem  so  far  away  after 
all.  They  were  the  ones  you  wrote  the 
day  we  left.  And  if  this  one  doesn't  take 
over  twelve  days  it  ought  to  reach  you 
about  on  Hazel's  birthday.  It  has  taken 
me  three  days  to  get  a  cable  off,  and  even 
then  the  agent  thought  it  would  be  several 
days    before    it    could    get    over.     It    seems 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    39 

there  are  a  few  other  people  who  want  to 
send   back  the   customary  ''safe   and  well." 

There  have  been  a  host  of  censor  regu- 
lations added  lately,  and  I've  figured  out 
that  you  can  really  keep  better  track  of  me 
through  the  papers  than  by  anything  I'm 
permitted  to  say.  But  when  I  have  a  chance 
to  get  near  a  cable  office,  I  '11  send  something 
occasionally.  It  only  costs  eight  cents  a 
word. 

Landing  in  a  foreign  land  was  just  as 
interesting  and  thrilling  as  I  knew  it  would 
be.  And  this  is  so  foreign.  No  one  under- 
stands English,  and  my  French  doesn't  seem 
to  penetrate.  I  have  learned  to  say  U7i 
biere  and  vin  rouge,  but  when  I  dick- 
ered with  a  peasant  woman  for  doing  my 
washing,  I  fizzled  miserably.  However,  Ted 
Wall  and  I  got  a  whole  lot  of  stuff  washed 
and  ironed  for  three  francs,  sixty  centimes. 

We  are  near  a  town  and  get  in  twice  a 
week  to  patronize  the  sidewalk  cafes.  But 
out  around  Camp  are  several  regular  or 
converted  places  to  eat.  Most  of  the  farm- 
houses   and    small    chateaux    have    arranged 


40  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

eating  and  drinking  gardens  and  all  along 
the  road  are  stands  with  fruit,  candy,  and 
cakes.  And  I  thought  food  would  be  scarce 
here.  You  ought  to  see.  You  go  into  a 
restaurant  where  the  sign  says  three  or 
four  francs  and  they  keep  you  eating  for 
a  couple  of  hours  steady.  They  begin  with 
cantaloupe  and  hors  d'ceuvres,  omelet,  fish, 
meat,  vegetables,  cheeses,  fruits,  coffee,  and 
wines.  And  then  the  Madame  will  apolo- 
gize for  having  so  little  in  war  times! 

Saturday  and  Sunday  we  had  practically 
free.  We  went  by  train  a  two-hours'  ride 
to  one  of  the  large  cities.  Every  bit  of  it 
was  interesting.  Ted  and  I  got  tangled 
up  in  a  compartment  with  some  French 
people.  Of  course,  they  wanted  to  converse 
with  rAmerique,  but  we  couldn't  get 
started. 

Then  we  had  luncheon  on  the  diner. 
Perhaps  the  New  York,  New  Haven  and 
Hartford  couldn't  learn  a  thing  from  the 
French  on  that  point!  A  delicious  home 
meal  was  served  to  everyone  at  once. 

And   when   we   came   to   our   destination, 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING   4 1 

I  distinguished  myself  by  stepping  from 
the  car  without  hitting  a  single  one  of  the 
steps.  It  certainly  looked  like  the  first 
wound  of  the  war  with  the  blood  smeared 
all  over  my  elbow.  As  the  train  pulled 
out,  a  French  lady  tossed  out  a  lace  handker- 
chief to  bind  it  with.  And  then  to  a  phar- 
macy where  a  funny  little  man  put  on  the 
most  elaborate  bandage  **for  America."  It 
was  only  a  skinned  elbow  at  that. 

We  had  a  gorgeous  time  hunting  around 
the  city,  and  every  step  I  thought  how  much 
you  all  would  enjoy  every  bit  of  it.  Ameri- 
can soldiers  were  a  strange  sight  to  the 
people.  They  would  stop  and  stare  and 
gather  round  us  when  we  looked  in  a 
window. 

The  pastry  shops  we  enjoyed  the  most. 
They  have  the  old  Cafe  Martin  patisserie 
beat  a  mile.  I  passed  up  the  chateaux  and 
cathedrals  and  wandered  in  and  out  of 
stores.  I  can  see  no  sign  of  war-stinting 
anywhere. 

The  streets  are  full  of  soldiers,  home  on 
furloughs   or   wounded,  —  soldiers    of    every 


42  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

nationality.  Practically  all  the  women  are 
In  mourning. 

Sunday  I  went  back  to  the  city  again  and 
enjoyed  it  even  more.     Such  a  dinner! 

Every  day  we  have  a  chance  for  wonder- 
ful bathing.  The  weather  is  about  the  same 
as  we  left  in  America,  hotter  at  mid-day 
and  cooler  morning  and  evenings.  Today 
is  sort  of  September-like,  a  cool  breeze  and 
a  little  rain. 

We  are  all  fixed  so  comfortably  and  every- 
thing goes  with  such  efficiency  that  I  have 
some  idea  that  the  needless  sufferings  of 
other  wars  are  not  to  be  repeated.  It's 
been  great  —  all  but  that  doggone  5.30  re- 
veille. 

You  better  start  making  plans  to  take 
the  first  boat  when  peace  comes.  It  will 
be  worth  it. 

I  can  buy  almost  everything  I  could  possi- 
bly need  here  except  knitted  goods  (helmet) 
and  your  letters. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    43 


^■^^. 


August  28,  Somewhere  in  France 
Dear  Family: 

Every  once  in  a  while  I  get  civilian-sick. 
Today  is  one  of  these  days  —  when  I'd 
just  Hke  to  drop  out  of  the  Army  for  a  few 
hours  and  be  just  a  plain  ordinary  citizen. 
But  most  of  the  time  I'm  glad  I  came. 
There  is  so  much  worth  while,  so  many 
thrilling  moments,  and  the  hardships  aren't 
hardships   at   all,  —  just   inconveniences. 

It's  a  gorgeous  day,  with  one  of  those  crisp 
fall  winds  and  I  certainly  would  give  a  lot 
to  get  out  on  the  golf  links  and  bat  the 
ball  against  it. 

Yesterday  we  spent  a  domestic  day  in  the 
barracks  as  it  rained  hard  all  day.  With 
a  fiddle  and  a  harmonica  going  on  at  one  end, 


44  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

a  poker  game  at  the  other,  and  Savage, 
our  big  barber,  working  in  the  middle,  there 
wasn't  anyone  who  could  say  we  didn't 
look  like  the  picture  of  contentment.  I 
poked  my  nose  out  just  three  times  during 
the  day  —  to  run  up  to  the  mess  tent  for 
some  food.  Our  cooks  seem  to  be  catching 
on  pretty  well  and  dole  out  three  "squares" 
that  would  content  anyone. 

About  the  only  things  I'd  like  to  have 
you  send  me  are  newspapers  and  Fatimas. 
It's  rather  tough  to  be  cut  off  from  all 
news  except  the  single  sheet  that  the  Paris 
New  York  Herald  sends  around,  and  the 
French  cigarettes  are  punk.  If  it  is  pos- 
sible, I'd  like  the  Traveler  and  Tribune 
and  an  occasional  bunch  of  Clearwater 
Suns. 

Everything  that  seemed  so  strange  and 
foreign  to  us  when  we  first  came  we  now 
take  as  a  matter  of  course  —  the  scenery, 
the  people,  and  their  crazy  language.  No 
one  has  yet  mastered  the  intricacies  of  the 
money  or  its  American  value.  Each  time 
you    buy    anything,    they    pass    out    enough 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING   45 

change  to  sink  a  ship,  but  hardly  worth 
carrying  around. 

I  am  expecting  to  see  Guy  Walzer  almost 
any  time  now.  But  he  will  have  been  so 
long  on  the  way  he  will  probably  have  for- 
gotten all  the  American  news  he  started  with. 

I'd  like  to  send  Hazel  a  birthday  present 
now,  but  am  going  to  wait  until  I  find  out 
just  what  we  can  send  back  parcel  post. 

We  are  using  Paris  time,  with  its  day- 
light-saving device  of  one  hour,  which  isn't 
very  practical  at  this  time  of  year.  It 
means  we  get  up  while  the  stars  are  still 
shining.  I  believe  it  changes  back  after  the 
first  of  September. 

August  jotb 
Dear  Family: 

I  TRIED  to  eat  up  all  the  pastry  in  France 
on  one  day,  but  now  I  am  again  a  normal, 
sensible  person.  We  are  having  snappy 
weather,  gorgeous  days  for  our  hikes  out 
through  the  beautiful  country.  Some  of  the 
quaint  little  villages  are  deserted  and  should 
have   a   sign   up:     "Closed  —  everyone  gone 


46  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  the  war."  The  mornings  and  evenings 
are  cool,  but  during  the  day  it  warms  up 
to  perfect  weather.  We  get  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  and  go  to  bed  before  twilight 
is  over.  It  certainly  is  time  to  stop  this 
"daylight-saving"  device.  It  doesn't  work. 
The  August  moon  is  quite  as  wonderful 
as  at  home,  only  it's  rather  rough  not  to 
have  any  joy-rides  or  Gloucester  hammocks. 
I  can  imagine  how  nice  it  is  at  Scituate. 

Four  of  us  went  into  town  last  night  and 
nearly  bought  out  the  shops  and  still  we  had 
a  few  million  centimes  left.  Mostly  we 
bought  food.  Prices  are  certainly  crazy  — 
a  great,  big  bunch  of  celery  costs  five  cents, 
while  a  measly  little  towel  can't  be  bought 
under  half  a  dollar. 

Yesterday  we  rummaged  out  in  the  coun- 
try and  found  some  big,  ripe  pumpkins, 
and  today  twenty-four  pies  are  waiting  up 
at  the  mess  tent  for  us.  The  fruits  here 
are  fine.  They  have  a  peculiar  canteloupe, 
more  like  our  cassaba  which  goes  well  for 
breakfast. 

No  more  mail  since  that  one  batch  —  with 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    47 

the  two  letters  you  thought  might  catch 
the  transport. 

Guy  Walzer  not  here  yet.  Am  hoping 
we  will  get  within  range  of  Doc.  sometimes. 

I  certainly  am  pleased  that  the  American 
Field  Ambulance  men  are  to  be  taken  Into 
our  service  or  sent  on  back  home  to  be 
drafted.  I  hated  to  think  of  them  with 
their  steamer  trunks  and  sporty  uniforms, 
while  we  are  to  do  the  same  job  and  be 
plain,  ordinary  privates.  I  am  wondering 
how  many  of  them  will  go  on  with  it,  and  If 
Davidson  will  be  persuaded  into  it. 

I  wish  I  had  been  admitted  to  Hazel's 
first  aid  class  last  winter.  We  are  having 
the  same  thing  now  and  you  can  guess  how 
poor  I  am  at  making  a  bandage. 

Yesterday  we  hiked  to  an  interesting 
French  resort.  It  had  the  usual  assortment 
of  women,  but  rather  a  decrepit  lot  of 
men. 

Our  command  of  the  French  language 
Is  being  extended  In  every  direction.  I  heard 
one  fellow  with  a  great  deal  of  assurance 
announce  In  a  restaurant  that  he  wanted:  — 


48  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

**Dose  kafe  oh  la  la!"  And  when  the 
Madame  didn't  seem  to  understand,  he 
showed  it  to  her  on  the  book: — Deux 
cafes  au  lait. 

Tomorrow  is  muster  day  and  the  next 
day  pay  day,  and  we  are  all  wondering 
how  many  francs  we  get  to  represent  thirty- 
six  dollars. 

Don't  forget  about  the  occasional  Fatimas 
and  the  newspapers.  I  think  they  will  come 
through.  Otherwise  we  are  all  very  com- 
fortable and  pretty  much  contented. 


September  2,  Sunday 
Dear  Family: 

I  AM  getting  to  feel  less  and  less  like  a 
soldier  and  more  like  a  picnicker,  because 
we  certainly  are  having  a  corking  good  time 
these  days.  Take  today,  for  example!  They 
didn't  let  us  ramble  off  too  freely,  as  they 
did  last  Sunday,  but,  with  our  Lieutenant 
and  the  entire  section,  we  took  the  train 
to  a  nearby  summer  resort.  It  was  a  gor- 
geous  day   and   we   had   a   wonderful   time. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    49 

just  such  a  day  as  that  last  one  I  had  at 
North  Scltuate.  Ted  Wall  and  I  had  dinner 
at  a  fashionable  hotel,  splendid  meal  and 
wine  for  one  dollar,  and  then  we  had  coffee 
served  out  on  the  lounge  overlooking  the 
sea.  Ted  and  I  were  the  only  Americans 
there.  There  were  many  interesting  English 
and  French  of  the  usual  resort  type. 

After  a  great  old  hop  on  the  beach,  we 
went  in  bathing  in  some  pink-and-white 
bathing  suits.  The  water  was  warm,  with 
nice  gentle  waves.  We  wandered  around 
the  shops  for  a  while,  buying  jams  and 
fruit,  and  then  took  the  train  home. 

You  couldn't  imagine  more  perfect  weather 
than  we  are  having.  As  there  was  too 
much  boisterous  celebration  in  town,  they 
are  keeping  us  rather  closely  in  camp,  which 
is  a  good  thing.  Yesterday  we  had  a  Har- 
vard-Yale baseball  game  which  attracted 
considerable  interest  in  Camp.  Harry  Le 
Gore,  the  Eli  football  hero,  pitched  for 
Yale.  He  is  with  the  Marines.  We  had 
Frye,  who  pitched  when  I  was  in  college. 
We  won  4-2.     I   shouldn't  be   surprised    if 


50  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

the  Harvard-Yale  football  game  would  be 
pulled  off  according  to  schedule  over  here. 

We  are  making  things  more  homelike 
every  day.  Ted  and  I  have  a  dining  room 
table  and  the  best  bed  of  hay  in  France. 
Our  impromptu  carpenters  have  built  a  poker 
table,  benches,  etc.  Probably  by  the  time 
we  get  the  barracks  provided  with  bath 
and  hot  and  cold  water,  the  order  will  come 
to  move  on. 

The  coffee  gets  better  every  day  and  last 
night  the  cook  celebrated  by  turning  out 
one  hundred  doughnuts.  Almost  every  day 
someone  else  discovers  that  he  can't  eat 
all  the  pastry  in  France. 

We  all  read  Wilson's  answer  to  the  Pope 
with  approval.  I  certainly  will  be  glad  to 
see  an  American  newspaper. 

My  French  improves  not  at  all.  I  learn 
the  words  but  can't  pronounce  the  pesky 
things.  However,  I  get  along  very  well 
making  signs  with  my  hands. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    51 


Tuesday,  September  5 
Dear  Family: 

I  SUPPOSE  these  letters  will  all  bunch  up 
and  land  in  North  Scituate  in  a  little  bundle. 
But  I  guess  the  only  way  of  making  sure 
of  getting  anything  through  is  to  write  a 
lot.  I  hope  you  all  will  write  often  too, 
for  mail  boats  must  come  pretty  often. 

Yesterday  we  had  to  keep  reminding  each 
other  that  it  was  Labor  Day  In  America. 
Everyone  had  something  to  say  as  to  what 
he  would  be  doing  if  he  were  home.  I 
guess  I  'd  have  been  working,  with  a  Monday 
and  the  theatres  just  opening. 

Otherwise,  we  paid  no  attention  to  the 
holiday.  We  had  a  corking  hike  out  through 
the  country  behind  our  long-legged  Captain, 
and  by  the  time  we  got  back  to  our  barracks, 
everyone  was  panting.  But  after  I'd  had 
a  cold  shower  and  a  big  plate  of  beans  for 
supper,  life  seemed  lots  better. 

I  certainly  am  glad  I  brought  along  my 
heavy    bath-robe.     Getting    up    these    chilly 


52  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

mornings  while  the  stars  and  moon  are  still 
bright  in  the  sky  is  anything  but  a  pleasure. 
I  shiver  until  the  sun  comes  up  to  warm 
us.     But    it    does    come    up    pretty   strong. 

I'd  like  to  be  helping  celebrate  Hazel's 
birthday  today.  As  far  as  I  can  remember, 
it  is  the  first  September  5th  I  have  been 
away  from  home.  Almost  every  other  holi- 
day I've  missed  except  that  and  Christmas. 

Maybe  I  '11  have  as  good  luck  about  Christ- 
mas this  year  as  I  did  last.  I  have  a  feeling 
that  things  will  sort  of  swing  that  way. 

Today  two  letters  came  through  from  New 
York  to  our  section  that  had  been  twenty- 
two  days  en  route.  I  think  they  will  make 
better  time  than  that  after  the  system  is 
organized.  Those  were  just  casual  letters. 
The  whole  section  has  had  just  that  one 
bunch  of  letters  from  Allentown.  But  we 
are  hoping  for  some  luck  any  day  now. 

Have  not  seen  Walzer  yet.  We  have  the 
same  batch  of  daily  rumors  that  we  had  in 
Allentown  and  most  of  them  mean  about 
as  much  as  they  did  there. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    53 


September  7 
Dear  Family: 

There  hasn't  been  enough  doing  in  the 
last  few  days  to  even  form  the  foundation 
of  a  letter.  Incoming  mail  has  dodged  all 
around  us  without  coming  near  enough. 
Today  three  packages  and  two  newspapers 
dated  August  10  came  into  our  section  and 
there  were  semi-official  rumors  that  two 
hundred  bags  of  soldier  mail  would  be  dis- 
tributed tomorrow. 

I  have  learned  to  wave  my  arms  around 
in  the  air  as  a  windmill  typewriter.  They 
call  It  semaphore  and  probably  It  is  useful, 
but  It  makes  me  feel  like  a  Boy  Scout  at 
play.  Some  time  that  we  are  devoting  to 
French  lessons  is  rather  more  In  my  line. 
I  wish  I'd  studied  It  with  the  same  eager- 
ness in  college. 

Tomorrow  I'm  going  to  put  on  those  be- 
coming blue  denims  and  see  if  I  've  forgotten 
all  I  don't  know  about  the  insldes  of  a 
Ford. 


54  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

The  weather  has  softened  again  —  even 
so,  I  can  sleep  in  pajamas  and  have  no  dawn 
regrets. 

Today  was  pay  day.  Each  man  came 
away  from  the  Quartermaster's  loaded  up 
with  something  like  two  hundred  francs. 
We  couldn't  reckon  how  much  it  was  in 
American  money,  but  we  felt  like  million- 
aires. And  it  will  all  go  for  tobacco,  jam, 
melons,  and  other  food.  All  we  think  of 
is  something  to  go  in  our  stomachs.  I 
guess  it  is  the  ''exercise  in  o — pen  air"  that 
gives  the  abnormal  appetite. 


The  last  two  days  we've  been  too  busy 
for  French,  for  calisthenics,  or  even  for 
casual     letter     writing.     Have     been     doing 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    55 

everything  from  high  class  twelve-hour  steve- 
dore work  to  swinging  a  pick.  Even  Sun- 
day wasn't  observed  as  it  should  be. 

But  today  I  got  hold  of  some  American 
tobacco  and  I  don't  care  what  happens. 
From  a  captain,  I  got  four  hundred  ciga- 
rettes and  some  pipe  tobacco.  Also  a  New 
York  Sunday  Tribune  dated  Sunday,  August 
12. 

The  food  has  improved  to  meet  a  day 
laborer's  appetite.     Too  tired  to  write  more. 


September  7j 
Dear  Family: 

I've  had  indirect  word  from  you,  although 
my  mail  hasn't  come  through  yet.  George 
Smith  in  Section  10  had  a  letter  from  his 
father  telling  of  Pop's  inquiring  about  my 
arrival.  You  can't  imagine  how  that  little 
news  cheered  me.  I'm  glad  you  heard  and 
sorry  the  cable  couldn't  get  through  sooner. 
I  had  four  Tribunes  forwarded  from  Allen- 
town,  last  date  August  10.  The  package 
will  probably  come  later.     Others  have  had 


56  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

them   that   were   sent   just   before   you   sent 
mine. 

The  stevedore  job  continues,  unloading 
everything  from  coffins  to  canned  milk.  Our 
back  yard  is  full  of  Henry's,  the  envy  of 
every  other  outfit  in  camp.  We  begin  to 
look  more  like  an  ambulance  corps. 

We've  had  ten  days  of  beautiful  summer 
weather,  but  they  are  issuing  the  woolen 
underclothes  and  overcoats  just  the  same. 

I  long  for  news  of  the  war.  We  are  too 
close  to  the  tape  to  know  anything.  Today's 
Herald  carried  word  of  a  ** peace  feeler" 
from  Germany  that  sounded  encouraging. 

My  letters  will  have  to  be  brief  from  now 
on  because  of  the  amount  of  censoring. 
I'll  fool  them  and  write  oftener.  We  are 
growing  more  into  a  little  family  in  our 
section  every  day  and  having  some  fun 
out  of  everything.  Write  often  and  when 
they  once  begin  to  come  in,  it  will  be  fine. 
{Written  on  T.M.C.A.  stationery  with  the 
heading:  '^On  Active  Service  with  the  Ameri- 
can Expeditionary  Force'^) 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    57 


September  14 
Dear  Family: 

This  morning  I'm  taking  a  little  vacation 
—  if  you  don 't  take  one  for  yourself,  they 
don't  happen.  So  I  shaved  while  the  de- 
tails were  being  wished.  And  it  is  a  fine 
morning  to  rest  —  with  the  rain  pattering 
gently  on  the   roof.     It's  almost  luxury. 

A  Base  Censor  has  been  established  again 
in  Camp,  which  does  away  with  the  Company 
Commander  holding  up  mail  until  he  has 
time  to  get  through  it  all. 

Yesterday,  on  the  stevedore  job,  we  had 
an  interesting  group  resting  off  where  smok- 
ing was  permitted.  There  were  a  dozen 
of  us  in  blue  denims,  as  many  German 
prisoners,  an  Armenian,  several  Frenchmen, 
and  a  bunch  of  New  York  darkies.  The 
air  was  blue  with  the  mixture  of  languages. 

We  are  to  be  with  the  Allied  Armies  for 
a  time  at  least  and  I  am  hoping  to  run  into 
the  Doc  or  even  Davidson. 

The   Government   doesn't   care  what  you 


58  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

write  or  send  me,  so  do  tell  everything  that 
is  going  on  at  home  and  send  cUppings  and 
pictures  of  bathing  parties,  etc. 

•        • 

Friday,  September  21 
Dear  Family: 

It  has  been  a  whole  week  since  I've  writ- 
ten and  such  a  busy  one  —  but  the  most 
enjoyable  week  since  I  enlisted.  We  are  no 
longer  in  a  crowded  camp,  but  off  by  our- 
selves in  the  wonderful  country.  We  are 
quartered  in  a  farmhouse,  really  as  guests 
of  the  American  Red  Cross  at  a  place  they 
have  been  using  as  a  base  for  equipping 
and  training  the  American  Field  Service 
men.  We  have  French  women  cooks  and 
I  suppose  we  are  getting  regular  French 
rations.  Anjrway,  it  is  great  stuff  that  is 
served  up  regularly  three  times  a  day,  even 
to  the  vin  rouge  that  we  can't  get  accus- 
tomed to  as  a  necessity.  Our  pretty  little 
courtyard  is  jammed  with  Ford  cars.  Each 
driver  has  his  own  car  to  take  care  of.  Tour- 
ing in  a  flivver  had  no  new  sensations  for 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    59 

me,  but  the  country  we  passed  through  and 
the  fun  of  being  part  of  a  column  of  Ameri- 
can soldiers  in  a  foreign  land  was  distinctly 
different  from  the  New  York  to  Christmas 
Cove  grind.  In  nearly  every  town  the 
women  lined  the  streets  with  baskets  of 
fruit  and  flowers. 

I  drove  our  first  sergeant  at  the  head  of 
our  section  and  came  through  with  just 
one  puncture  at  a  fortunate  luncheon  stop, 
with,  of  course,  the  proper  daily  attention 
to  the  commutator.  Never  toured  with  such 
a  carefree  mind,  for  always  in  the  rear  came 
mechanics,  spare  parts,  and  good  advice. 
We  made  occasional  stops  and  the  men 
were  given  opportunity  to  visit  cathedrals, 
etc.  But  my  idea  of  sightseeing  is  to  jump 
into  the  nearest  grocery  store  and  buy  all 
the  food  in  sight.  Toward  the  end  of  our 
run  we  were  reviewed  by  several  colonels 
and  an  odd  major  or  so.  Old  Henry  would 
have  swelled  up  with  pride  if  he  had  seen 
the  way  the  flivvers  stood  the  test. 

We  are  so  ideally  located  now  that  I  know 
it  can't  last  long.     We  have  our  own  lieu- 


6o  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

tenant  and  a  most  cordial  French  officer. 
The  weather  Is  ideal  and  we  are  all  as  happy 
as  can  be.  I  '11  have  to  save  more  for  another 
letter. 


September  25 
Dear  Family: 

This  has  been  a  wonderful  day!  After 
weeks  of  hoping  and  waiting  around  for  the 
mail  man,  someone  went  in  and  stirred 
things  up  and  brought  back  half  a  car  load 
of  precious  letters.  I  had  thirty-five,  includ- 
ing those  you  have  written  from  August  9 
to  September  11.  It  made  me  feel  just 
like  a  new  person  to  establish  connections 
again  with  my  world.  I  read  the  letters  in 
chronological  order  and  thus  pieced  together 
all  you  have  been  doing  since  I  left.  It  was 
the  most  joyful  party  I  could  ask.  So 
many  times  I've  sat  and  wondered  what 
you  were  doing  and  felt  so  terribly  far  away 
because  I  couldn't  know.  You  can't  imagine 
the  relief  at  having  first-hand  information 
—  one  letter  that  was  written  only  two  weeks 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    6l 

ago.  And  your  news  was  all  so  cheerful 
and  interesting. 

I'm  afraid  my  letters  aren't  going  to  help 
much.  You  seemed  to  have  gathered  more 
accurate  information  about  me  from  the 
outside  and  from  guessing  than  from  any- 
thing I  could  tell  you. 

Your  letters  are  not  censored  and  any 
packages  you  may  send  will  come  duty 
free  and  will  be  treated  as  first  class  mail. 
All  I  want  is  Fatimas,  smoking  tobacco, 
a  few  warm  socks,  a  helmet,  —  and  news- 
papers. Everything  else  I  can  get  here. 
We  seem  to  be  in  a  land  of  plenty,  especially 
food. 

We  are  still  having  our  happy  little  farm- 
house-party and  I  am  enjoying  the  country 
more  than  it  seems  fair  in  war  time.  Beau- 
tiful country  and  gorgeous  summer  weather 
still.  Sunday  night,  five  of  us  had  a  regular 
home  dinner  at  a  nearby  cafe-roadhouse ; 
a  big  roasted  chicken,  French  fried  potatoes, 
salad,  pie,  and  champagne,  —  all  served  in 
a  typical  country  dining  room  by  a  bright- 
eyed    Belgian    girl.     It    was    the    first    meal 


62  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

I've    had    in    France    that    tasted    anything 
like  home. 

We  see  few  people  except  an  occasional 
peasant,  various  inspecting  French  officers, 
now  and  then  an  airplane  buzzing  on  its 
way.  At  present  I  am  driving  the  Lieu- 
tenant's  car   and   also   making   his   bed   and 


bargaining  for  his  laundry  —  but  we  won't 
dwell  on  that  part  of  it. 

When  I  do  get  into  service,  don't  worry 
about  me,  because  there  seems  to  be  little 
danger  in  the  work  we  are  to  be  assigned. 
And  during  the  winter  there  isn't  much  to 
do  and  we'll  hope  for  peace  in  the  spring. 
I  know  just  what  our  work  is  to  be  —  exactly 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    63 

what  the  Field  Ambulance  men  have  been 
doing  —  and  I  guess  If  hundreds  of  them 
could  come  through  without  a  scratch,  I'm 
small  enough  to  slip  by. 

I'm  enjoying  it  all  more  than  I  ever 
dreamed  and  pretty  nearly  happy  at  times, 
especially  now  that  I  know  everything  is 
going  well  with  you. 


Wednesday,  October  j 
Dear  Family: 

Honestly,  there  is  so  much  to  write 
about,  I  can't  tell  it  all  intelligently.  But 
I'll  just  blaze  ahead  as  I  remember  things. 
Being  with  the  French  army  now,  we  aren't 
subjected  to  such  rigid  censorship  —  for  they 
realize  we  don't  know  anything  important. 

At  present  we  are  in  Camp  some  ways 
behind  the  French  front  waiting  for  orders 
to  go  forward  with  some  division. 

To  go  back  to  last  week,  at  our  farmhouse 
Camp,  about  as  far  from  Paris  as  Clearwater 
from  Tampa  (thirty  miles):    I  was  selected 


64  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  drive  the  staff  car,  and  so  far  it  has 
turned  out  to  be  the  best  job  in  the  section. 

None  of  us  had  seen  Paris,  even  though 
on  our  trip  across  the  country  we  passed 
within  eight  miles  of  it.  But  last  Thursday 
the  Lieutenant  got  an  order  to  appear  at 
the  Paris  headquarters  and  I  was  behind 
the  wheel  with  a  smile.  We  pulled  into  the 
big  town  about  10.30  in  the  morning  and 
I  didn't  blink  my  eyes  for  the  next  twelve 
hours.  Paris  probably  is  worth  a  casual 
glance  or  so  in  peace  times;  but  today, 
with  officers  and  soldiers  from  all  over  the 
earth  flocking  the  streets  and  cafes,  it  is 
dazzling. 

Right  in  front  of  headquarters  I  ran  into 
Bob  Dort,  from  Keene,  who  had  just  landed 
from  America.  He  filled  me  full  of  Ameri- 
can news. 

After  a  little  business  the  Lieutenant  and 
I  went  out  hunting  for  a  regular  meal.  We 
came  into  a  place  that  might  have  been 
Rector's  and  ate  forty  francs'  worth  with- 
out stopping.  More  chasing  around  in  the 
afternoon   and   back  to   "Rector's"   for  our 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING   65 

last  meal  before  we  went  to  the  front.  We 
finished  just  as  the  Hghts  dimmed,  about 
9.30.  We  breezed  out  of  Paris  through 
pitch-dark  streets  without  a  light  on  the  car. 

It  was  some  day  for  the  staff  driver! 
And  he  had  to  tell  everyone  of  the  other 
forty-five  men  everything  there  was  to  tell 
about  Paris,  even  about  the  peach  who 
washed  her  face  and  hands  nonchalantly 
alongside  of  him  in  the  restaurant  wash 
room. 

Friday  we  got  ready  to  go  up  to  the  front, 
and  on  Saturday  came  the  staff  car,  a  little 
gray  Ford  touring  car,  loaned  by  the  French 
government.  And  the  French  First  Lieu- 
tenant, with  a  waxy  moustache  and  a  sporty 
cane  in  his  little  gray  Ford,  and  a  French 
sergeant  and  secretary. 

Sunday  morning  we  left.  I  hated  to  go 
because  we  had  all  been  so  happy  in  that 
farmhouse.  The  Lieutenant  and  I  loafed 
along  at  the  rear  of  the  column.  It  didn't 
seem  like  going  to  war  at  all  —  just  like 
touring  at  home.  At  noon  we  stopped  for 
Sunday  dinner  at  a  little  town. 


66  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Towards  afternoon  we  began  to  realize 
that  we  were  nearing  something.  All  the 
towns  were  full  of  soldiers  and  along  the 
roadside  were  encampments  —  men  en  repos 
(resting).  All  we  knew  was  that  we  were 
headed  for  some  big  French  automobile  park 
where  sections  were  dispatched  to  the  front. 

We  came  into  the  camp  at  5.30,  shut  off 
the  motors,  and  listened.  We  could  hear 
it  all  right.  It  sounded  like  the  4th  of  July, 
—  just  a  long  rumble  coming  across  the 
wheat  fields.  And  then  someone  spied  an 
airplane  —  and  then  another.  Finally  we 
counted  eleven  in  one  group,  with  puffs  of 
smoke  in  the  air.  It  looked  exciting  enough, 
and  was  —  even  though  no  one  knew  the 
score.  While  we  were  waiting,  we  discovered 
an  abandoned  trench  and  decided  not  to 
hurry  towards  enlisting  in  the  infantry.  It's 
too  muddy. 

The  French  Lieutenant,  who  had  been 
up  pow-wowing  with  the  Camp  command- 
ant, came  back  with  word  that  we  weren't 
expected.  So  we  made  camp  right  where 
we  were;   that  is,  the  men  made  beds  in  the 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    67 

ambulances,  the  cook  stove  got  busy,  and 
it  was  home. 

The  officers  were  towed  off  down  town  to 
sleep  in  some  bum  farmhouse.  I  curled  up 
in  the  tonneau  on  top  of  the  luggage  and 
slept  just  as  though  there  weren't  any  can- 
nons booming.  The  Lieutenant  found  me 
still  asleep  at  seven  in  the  morning.  We 
drove  back  to  the  roadside  camp  for  break- 
fast. They  told  us  we  wouldn't  be  given 
a  division  for  a  few  days.  So  we  arranged 
the  cars  in  a  hollow  square,  cook  tent  in  the 
middle,  and  have  as  homelike  a  camp  as  you 
could  ask.  The  Lieutenant  and  I  have  a 
big  tent  which  we  throw  over  the  top  of  the 
car  and  stretch  out  to  one  side,  giving  room 
for  one  cot  (his),  one  stretcher  (mine),  two 
bureaus  (boxes),  two  chairs,  a  dining-room 
table  (the  step),  and  plenty  of  room  to  read 
the  batch  of  New  York  Tribunes  I  found  in 
Paris,   forwarded   from   Allentown. 

Monday  and  Tuesday  we  spent  sight- 
seeing in  the  staff  car;  up  to  within  five 
miles  of  the  firing  line,  and  every  inch  of  the 
way  interesting.     We  found  American  boys 


68 


CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


galore  —  one  camp  with  two  hundred,  all 
in  the  American  Field  Service,  camion  drivers 
and  ambulance  men.  They've  been  here 
months  and  not  a  man  even  ticked  by  a 
bullet.  Many  of  them  already  had  been 
taken  into  the  Army  and  others  were  going 
to  enlist.  The  towns  we  passed  through 
were  practically  deserted  by  civilians,  and 
soldiers  quartered  in  all  the  houses,  —  one 
village  of  Algerians.  On  all  sides  it  was 
the  same  comment,  — "Nothing  doing." 
Days  and  days  of  loafing  around  waiting  for 
calls. 


Then  we  went  to  a  city  that  has  been  shot 
up  and  is  still  within  range  of  the  big  Bosche 
guns.     There  was  the  usual  bombed  cathe- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING   69 

dral,  the  wrecked  and  partly  demolished 
homes,  but  a  few  stores  still  doing  business 
and  the  streets  full  of  soldiers. 

I've  got  to  run  now  to  take  a  couple  of 
men  over  to  the  dentist,  but  will  write  more 
this  P.M. 


October  g 
Dear  Family: 

After  having  hit  most  of  the  steps  along 
the  way,  at  last  we  have  arrived  near  the 
front  and  near  enough  to  be  interesting, 
but  not  near  enough  to  be  shot.  It's  near 
enough ! 

We  are  quartered  adjacent  to  a  field 
hospital.  The  ambulances  carry  patients 
back  to  various  larger  hospitals.  Another 
section  brings  them  in  from  the  poste  de 
secours.  It's  lazy  work  —  only  fifteen  cars 
have  been  out  today  —  but  in  times  of  an 
attack  I  guess  they'll  all  be  working. 

The  Lieutenant  and  I  have  a  tent  to  our- 


70  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

selves.  Some  of  the  men  are  in  a  wooden 
barracks,  others  in  tents,  and  a  few  timid 
ones  in  improvised  bomb-proof  affairs. 

This  is  the  fourth  night  up  here.  The 
very  first  night  I  slept  just  as  soundly  as  at 
home.  Yet  the  artillery  is  working  within 
a  couple  of  miles.  The  days  are  mostly 
quiet,  but  at  night  the  bombardment  is  con- 
tinuous. I've  learned  to  distinguish  between 
the  "arrivals"  and  the  "departures."  Once 
or  twice  I've  been  near  enough  to  hear  them 
whistle. 

I  'm  tickled  to  pieces  with  my  job  as  driver 
of  the  staff  car.  Everything  that  is  inter- 
esting to  see,  I  see.  The  Lieutenant  is  very 
companionable  and  congenial.  We  have  lots 
of  business  errands  and  yet  save  time  for 
sightseeing  and  running  into  a  near-by  town 
for  shopping.  There  are  several  good  stores 
in  the  part  of  the  town  that  has  been  left 
from  the  bombardment. 

We  buy  bacon,  eggs  and  butter,  jam  and 
canned  stuff,  and  over  a  little  alcohol  lamp 
cook  up  enough  to  supplement  the  regular 
rations.     Last   night's    dinner   was   our   star 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    71 

attempt,  with  fried  eggs,  bacon,  French 
fried  potatoes,  and  steak,  wine,  etc. 

We've  made  our  tent  pretty  comfortable 
—  with  blankets  around  the  side  to  keep 
out  the  cold. 

The  summer  weather  has  deserted  us. 
We've  had  five  days  of  rain,  but  the  sun 
came  out  today  on  a  beautiful  fall  day. 

The  airplanes  came  out  in  hordes  with 
the  better  weather.  I  saw  a  flock  of  sixteen 
going  over  the  lines  together. 

I'm  glad  I  know  how  to  drive  a  Ford. 
All  roads  leading  to  the  front  are  just  like 
Fifth  Avenue  —  packed  and  jammed  with 
traffic,  with  a  gendarme  every  few  feet. 
There  are  long  trains  of  camions,  every  kind 
of  ammunition  truck,  troops,  limousines  and 
touring  cars  with  officers,  and  every  kind  of 
horse-drawn  vehicle. 

Have  to  run  now.  More  later.  Am  very 
much  content  over  everything  —  Fatimas  and 
sweet  chocolate. 


72  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


October  12    {It  ought  to  he  Columbus  Day 

but  it  aint) 
Dear  Family: 

Generally  it  rains  and  occasionally  it 
pours.  Today  it's  the  latter.  Maybe  it's 
the  heavy  bombardment  that  causes  the 
ructions,  or  possibly  the  Lord  wants  to 
sicken  the  nations  of  war.  Anyway,  our 
tent  doesn't  leak. 

We  have  a  real  tent  now.  It's  nine  feet 
square,  head  room  all  around,  and  keeps 
out  everything  but  the  cold.  It's  cosy  as 
you  like  up  until  7  p.m.  After  that  we 
duck  under  the  covers,  with  cigarettes, 
matches,  and  a  few  last  August  Sateveposts 
within  reach.  In  it  we  have  all  the  comforts 
of  home:  an  improvised  ice-box,  kitchen 
stove,  dining-room  table,  etc.,  —  and  a  door- 
mat without  any  "Welcome."  With  all  our 
possessions  scattered  about  there  is  room 
for  the  Lieutenant  and  me  to  navigate  and 
that's  about  all. 

And    take   it   all   in   all,    I'm  just   about 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    73 

as  content  being  right  here  at  the  front  as 
any  time  since  I  enlisted.  Every  day  I  do 
something  interesting  and  all  that  humble 
feeling  of  being  a  private  has  vanished  here. 
The  Lieutenant  and  I  are  just  as  good  friends 
as  if  we  were  on  a  camping  trip  together. 
We  drive  somewhere  every  day  and  always 
include  a  town  to  do  some  shopping. 

Yesterday  we  drove  around  to  several 
different  hospitals  looking  for  a  place  for 
one  of  our  men  with  bronchitis.  We  found 
a  wonderful  chateau  affair,  with  English 
nurses,  and  today  he  is  established  there 
with  all  the  luxuries. 

This  morning  a  bunch  of  officers  blew  in 
from  Paris.  There  was  a  little  old  major, 
an  occasional  captain,  and  a  half  dozen 
lieutenants,  all  in  the  medical  corps.  They 
hadn't  seen  any  war  except  in  cities  and 
hotels  and  wanted  us  to  show  them  the 
front. 

We  started  out  from  our  Camp,  two  car 
loads,  with  one  of  the  boys  who  knew  where 
a  battery  was  hidden  up  in  the  woods,  as 
guide.     After    a   while    we   got    out   of   the 


74  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

cars  and  followed  the  guide  up  a  muddy 
hill  —  way,  way  up. 

We  came  out  on  a  little  plain.  There 
wasn't  a  soul  up  there  or  anything  in  sight. 
We  pointed  out  the  German  lines,  —  a  little 
speck  off  in  the  distance  because  it  was  misty. 

At  first  they  were  thrilled  over  it,  but 
when  nothing  happened  they  began  to  crab. 
They  wanted  to  see  the  front,  and  here  we 
were  four  miles  or  so  away  from  the  Ger- 
mans. The  guide  couldn't  find  the  battery 
and  it  looked  like  a  pretty  poor  party.  We 
felt  kind  of  sheepish,  too,  because  we'd 
expected  to  thrill  them,  but  it  seemed  as  if 
the  war  had  been  postponed  on  account 
of  rain.  The  officers  took  off  their  helmets 
and  started  back  down  the  hill,  crabbing 
about  the  guide. 

We'd  hardly  gone  twenty  steps  before 
there  was  a  vicious  whistle  behind  us,  some- 
thing sailed  over  our  heads,  and  we  saw  the 
shrapnel  burst  in  the  village  below.  One 
more  followed  and  then  it  was  quiet. 

I  looked  around  and  there  was  the  little 
Major    crouched    against    the    hillside.     He 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    75 

knew  he  was  safe  there  and  wouldn't  budge. 
The  other  officers  found  various  places  to 
crouch  and  no  one  complained  about  not 
being  near  enough  to  the  front. 


A  Frenchman  said  we'd  drawn  the  fire 
by  our  group  on  the  hilltop.  The  Lieuten- 
ant and  I  were  tickled  to  pieces  that  the 
party  had  been  a  success  —  only  the  Germans 
shouldn't  be  so  careless  about  shooting. 
They  might  have  hit  somebody. 

And  all  that  happened  in  a  rainstorm. 


76  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  town  and 
found  the  only  thing  in  France  that's  cheap. 
It  was  a  Satevepost  —  dated  September  29 
—  that  sold  for  twenty-five  centimes,  which 
is  something  less  than  a  nickle  when  you 
figure  it  out  in  American  money.  Also  I 
picked  up  a  copy  of  the  Paris  edition  of  the 
New  York  Herald  and  read  how  the  World 
Series  had  been  on  for  several  days  without 
our  knowing  the  scores.  Nothing  about  the 
war  except  the  official  communique,  and  still 
I  don't  know  whether  it's  all  going  to  be  over 
for  me  to  be  home  by  Christmas. 

When  we  came  back  to  the  tent  there  was 
a  little  batch  of  American  mail  for  me. 
Perhaps  I  wasn't  tickled.  The  box  you 
sent  to  Allentown  hasn't  found  me  yet, 
but  probably  will,  and  I'm  glad  some  Fati- 
mas  are  on  the  way.  Cigarettes  of  any 
kind  are  so  scarce  here.  You  might  send 
some  very  heavy  stockings  (socks)  — I  can't 
seem  to  find  any  here. 

Hazel's  clippings  were  most  interesting 
about  Paul,  Charlie  Peabody,  etc.  I  was 
up  visiting  the  boys  in  the  Lafayette  flying 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    77 

corps  the  other  day.  They  told  me  that 
a  Campbell  had  been  lost  the  day  before, 
but  I  had  no  idea  it  was  the  dancing  "Court." 

That  is  absurd  about  not  being  able  to 
cable  except  important  messages.  Several 
of  the  fellows  have  had  them.  They  are 
called  week-end  cables  to  soldiers,  with  a 
special  rate  of  something  like  eight  cents 
a  word.  They  come  by  mail  from  London. 
They  told  us  we  couldn't  send  anything  but 
important  messages,  too. 

Except  for  cables,  I  think  it  would  be  safer 
for  you  to  keep  my  first  address  as  the  cor- 
rect one.  The  U.  S.  Post  Office  in  Paris 
seems  to  have  learned  where  we  are  and  will 
forward  things  promptly.  We  might  be 
transferred  back  to  the  American  Army  and 
the  French  Army  wouldn't  know  where 
we  were. 

There  are  Americans  all  around  us.  Boys 
in  the  American  Field  Service  running  ambu- 
lances and  trucks  —  they're  a  fine  crowd 
and  most  of  them  have  joined  the  Army 
by  now.  We  never  see  any  of  the  regular 
American   Army,   although   we   know  where 


78  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

they  are.  WInthrop  Faulkner,  I  heard, 
landed  in  the  same  place  we  did  and  went 
into  camp  there  temporarily. 


Saturday,  October  75 

Today  dawned  bright.  The  first  real  sun 
for  days.  Everything  is  out  on  the  line 
drying  and  everyone  is  happy.  The  Lieu- 
tenant has  gone  off  to  a  luncheon  party 
and  I  have  a  day  of  ease.  None  of  my  work 
now  is  hard  or  unpleasant.  Just  driving 
the  little  Ford  and  having  a  good  time. 

Last  night  we  "made  a  bridge"  with 
the  French  Lieutenant  and  French  Sergeant. 
They  played  pretty  well,  but  my  Lieutenant 
and  I  are  thinking  of  taking  them  on  tonight 
for  a  few  centimes  a  point.  They  don't 
talk  much  English,  but  have  some  unique 
expressions.  After  he'd  gotten  a  game 
tucked  away,  the  French  Lieutenant  said, 
**Now  we  must  make  a  ceiling,"  which 
probably  meant  "run  up  a  few  hundred 
above  the  line." 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    79 


When  our  section  goes  back  en  repos, 
the  Lieutenant  and  I  are  planning  to  drive 
down  to  Paris  for  a  couple  of  days.  It  would 
only  take  about  three  hours.  And  when 
our  ten-day  furlough  is  due,  we're  going  to 
head  for  London,  where  we  won't  have 
to  make  signs  at  the  bar  keeper. 

Today  I  had  a  splendid  dinner  of  roast 
beef,  baked  potatoes,  jam  and  wine  —  and 
it's  warm  enough  to  stretch  out  in  the  sun 
and    take    a    snooze,    which    I    couldn't    do. 


8o  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

The  hospital  next  door  has  hot  and  cold 
showers  we  can  use  if  anyone  feels  that 
ambitious. 

I  can  go  to  my  tent  door  any  time  and  look 
out  on  several  roads,  each  one  of  them 
jammed  full  of  traffic  —  all  to  keep  things 
going  on  the  march  to  Berlin. 

I  could  be  perfectly  content  here  if  you 
could  all  occasionally  drop  in  and  see  how 
safe  and  comfortable  I  am.  It  is  about  as 
safe  a  service  as  I  could  be  in  and  still  main- 
tain my  respectability  in  military  circles, 
—  and  it  is  a  great  experience. 


October  14 
Dear  Family: 

More  American  mail  came  in  this  morn- 
ing! Pop's  letter  of  September  25,  which 
is  some  speedy,  some  packages  for  some  of 
the  fellows,  but  none  for  me.  It  certainly 
makes  me  feel  comfortable  to  know  that 
things  are  all  going  well  at  home. 

The  Philadelphia  boy's  description  of  the 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    8l 

naval  battle  (submarine  attack  on  trans- 
port fleet)  had  a  good  basis  of  truth,  but  was 
highly  colored.  Personally  I  didn't  see  a 
single  U-boat,  but  the  way  the  shots  were 
ringing  out  from  every  gun  made  me  sure 
they  were  there. 

The  U.  S.  papers  may  tell  nothing  of  the 
troops,  but  there  is  little  to  tell.  They're 
just  here  and  in  training.  I  guess  we're 
the  only  ones  at  the  front  and  that's  just  to 
train  us  to  work  with  American  troops  and 
help  the  French  along  a  little,  too.  Don't 
think  of  me  as  dodging  shells  on  a  dark 
road  'cause  I'm  not.  Instead,  I'm  playing 
bridge  with  the  French  and  picking  up  a 
few  francs  an  evening.  Last  night  it  was 
7  francs,  60.  I  drive  only  when  the  Lieu- 
tenant wants  to  go  some  place  and  except 
for  that  little  escapade  on  the  hill  —  which 
you  bet  won 't  be  repeated  —  we  never  see 
a  shell.  Nor  do  any  of  the  boys,  and  we  are 
all  looking  for  a  quiet  easy  winter.  Why, 
of  all  these  American  boys  around  here, 
I  haven't  heard  of  a  single  accident. 

Today  is  a  nice  warm  day  —  about  a  mid- 


82  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

September  day.  We  intended  to  go  to  town, 
but  the  mail  arrived  and  postponed  all  other 
activity  until  afternoon.  Then  the  Lieu- 
tenant and  I  will  run  over  —  a  twenty- 
five-minute  ride  —  and  practise  up  our  bum 
French  trying  to  buy  nails,  another  lamp, 
some  eggs  and  a  little  bacon. 

It  may  sound  foolish  —  but  next  to  Ameri- 
can cigarettes,  American  candy  is  the  most 
necessary  thing  on  the  battle  field  —  such 
as  chocolate  creams,  etc. 

The  airplanes  are  busy  today.  Two  Ger- 
man planes  just  passed  high  over  the  lines 
and  we  could  see  the  shrapnel  burst  in  the 
air  that  the  French  anti-air  guns  sent  up. 
There's  a  big  French  observation  balloon 
that  goes  up  near  us  in  fair  weather. 

I  must  shave  before  lunch  —  which  re- 
minds me,  will  you  send  a  couple  of  dozen 
safety  razor  blades.? 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING    83 


{Postmarked  Soissons) 

October  16  —  Tuesday 
Dear  Family: 

More  cheering  in  camp!  Yesterday  the 
package  you  sent  September  15  from  North 
Scituate  came  and  every  single  thing  in  it 
was  just  about  as  precious  as  any  jeweller's 
display.  The  chocolate  and  Fatimas  got 
the  biggest  ovation  in  our  tent;  next  the 
newspapers  and  magazines  —  and  the  sweater 
and  helmet  were  certainly  welcome.  I  slept 
in  the  helmet  last  night.  This  morning  I 
found  a  thin  coating  of  ice  in  the  water- 
bucket. 

The  package  was  in  excellent  condition 
and  came  right  through  after  the  letter  tell- 
ing about  it.  It  made  me  feel  so  much 
nearer  to  America  to  have  real  American 
things  right  in  my  tent.  If  it  isn't  much 
bother,  send  things  often,  because  I  can 
appreciate  little  things  like  magazines  and 
chocolate  more  than  I  ever  dreamed  possible. 


84 


CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


I  just  heard  some  noise  outside  and  went 
out  to  see  the  prettiest  air  battle  in  the 
clearest  sky.  A  German  plane  came  over 
our  lines,  high  up.  Every  anti-aircraft  gun 
on  this  front  seemed  to  open  up  on  him. 
We  could  see  shrapnel  bursting  all  around 
him,  as  his  plane  darted  in  and  out  among 
the  white  puffs  of  smoke.  A  dozen  French 
planes  went  up  after  him  but  I  guess  he  got 
away.  Now  the  German  batteries  have 
opened  up  on  the  French  machines.  The 
fellows  all  stand  in  the  yard  and  cheer.  It's 
still  going  on,  but  I've  broke  my  neck 
watching. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING    85 

Yesterday  we  saw  a  damn  Bosche  come 
and  puncture  an  observation  balloon  just 
two  miles  from  camp.  It  was  just  a  blazing 
mass  that  came  down  through  the  clouds. 
It  must  be  a  thrilling  life  up  there. 

I  guess  I  didn't  explain  very  much  what 
our  work  is  here.  We  are  right  on  the 
grounds  of  a  big  field  hospital,  several  big 


86  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

canvas  buildings.  About  once  every  hour 
an  orderly  comes  over  and  calls,  "Une 
voiture/'  which  means  that  one  of  our  ambu- 
lances cranks  up  and  carries  some  blesses 
back  to  one  of  the  other  hospitals.  It's 
easy  work  —  ten  cars  on  duty  every  twenty- 
four  hours.  The  boys  are  never  under  actual 
shell-fire,  but  there  are  plenty  of  interesting 
things  to  see  and  hear. 

We  are  making  things  more  comfortable 
every  day.  We  have  branched  out  in  the 
cooking  line  to  include  some  swell  sausage. 

We  are  having  cold  mornings  and  nights 
and  beautiful  warm  days.  No  autumn 
foliage  over  here.  We  play  bridge  every 
night  now.  Last  night  I  won  every  rubber 
for  a  total  of  7  francs,  25.  The  Frenchmen 
call  a  game  a  "sleeve."  The  French  Lieu- 
tenant is  almost  childish  over  the  game, 
he  likes  to  play  it  so  well.  And  when  I 
carried  him  along  for  two  winning  rubbers 
last  night,  he   almost  kissed  me  goodnight! 

I  haven't  had  much  chance  to  write  this 
last  week  —  but  lots  of  opportunity  to  see 
War  from  every  angle.     There   has  been   a 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    87 

big  attack,  an  advance,  a  host  of  prisoners 
and  all  the  details  that  go  to  make  an 
"eight-column   streamer-head"   story. 

It's  interesting  and  doubtless  there  is 
more  at  stake,  but  taking  it  all  in  all,  I'd 
prefer  to  watch  even  a  0-0  Harvard-Yale 
football  game.  And  yet  from  the  week's 
work  I  have  enough  adventures  to  tell  of 
to  fill  a  winter  of  evenings,  and  enough 
mud  caked  on  the  bottom  of  my  Ford  to 
supply  a  brick  factory. 

Before  the  attack,  during  the  artillery 
preparation,  we  scouted  roads  to  the  vari- 
ous posts  where  the  section  might  have  to 
work. 

"Artillery  preparation"  were  only  a  couple 
of  words  to  me  before.  Now  they  mean 
the  biggest  word  there  is  for  bang,  mul- 
tiplied all  about  you  and  happening  infre- 
quently enough  to  catch  you  off  your 
guard.  I'd  see  a  big  gun  upon  a  hillside, 
get  ready  for  the  shock  —  and  a  cannon 
eight  feet  from  the  car  would  go  off  with 
concussion  enough  to  wreck  any  regular 
automobile.     But  our  Henry  pulled  through 


88  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

without  any  casualties  except  a  split  top. 
That  happened  one  evening  when  I  was 
trying  to  slip  by  a  battery  of  railway  guns 
in    the    semidarkness.     We    wore    cotton   in 


our  ears  after  the  first  day  and  almost  liked 
the  noise. 

It  was  one  rainy  morning  that  the  boys 
were  called  out  to  the  posts  and  we  knew 
the  attack  had  begun  (the  French  drive 
on  Laon).  Part  way  up  the  crowded  roads 
we  met  the  first  German  prisoners  and  we 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    89 

didn't  need  the  headlines  to  tell  us  how 
things  were  going. 

For  three  days  the  Lieutenant  and  I  were 
on  the  road  constantly.  Back  to  camp  for 
meals  and  for  a  night's  sleep  —  which  was 
more  than  most  of  the  fellows  got. 

The  greatest  stunt  of  all  was  walking 
over  a  fresh  battlefield  and  into  the  German 
trenches  of  twenty-four  hours  before.  The 
first  corpse  I  came  on,  I  sort  of  glanced  at 
casually  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye.  But 
later  I  grew  bolder,  and  even  came  back 
with  a  German  bayonet  that  I  hope  never 
had  killed  a  Frenchman.  I  could  have  had 
a  car  load  of  Bosche  souvenirs,  but  I'll  wait 
for  further  conquests  to  fill  up  my  barracks 
bag. 

What  was  left  of  the  German  trenches  we 
looked  over  carefully.  They  had  left  every- 
thing from  personal  letters  to  Mauser  six 
shooters. 

Back  at  the  posts,  I  renewed  my  "Sprechen 
Sie  Deutsch"  with  the  prisoners  and  learned 
many  interesting  things:  That  there  were 
no  American  soldiers  in  France  —  their  sub- 


90  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

marines  had  sunk  all  the  transports  that  had 
put  to  sea — and  that  the  war  would  be  over 
in  January,  victoriously  for  "  Gott  mit  Uns." 

When  I  told  him  that  I  was  an  American, 
soldier,  and  that  there  were  half  a  million 
others  all  through  the  woods  poking  shrap- 
nel at  his  Kamerads,  he  gave  a  few  sighs 
and  maybe  began  to  realize  that  Kaiser  Bill 
might  be  fibbing  a  bit  after  all. 

The  whole  attack  meant  work  and  some 
hardship  for  everyone,  but  it  was  fun  — 
especially  to  be  on  the  winning  side. 

Now  we  look  for  things  to  quiet  down, 
and  intend  to  dig  ourselves  in  somewhere 
for  a  winter  of  ease  and  the  best  comfort 
we  can  make. 

Already  we  are  having  a  touch  of  mild 
winter  and  a  little  ice  in  the  bucket  each 
morning.  Shower  baths  are  growing  less 
popular  and  anything  more  than  mere  face 
and  hand  washing  is  almost  tabooed.  I 
haven't  had  my  trousers  off  for  two  weeks 
but  have  made  a  date  for  a  shower  next 
Wednesday. 

I    am    growing    fatter    every    day.     Guess 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    91 

It  is  mostly  being  my  own  cook  and  having 
lots  of  bread,  butter,  and  jam  on  tap.  Our 
private  larder  contains  at  the  present  moment 
some  fifteen  pounds  of  bacon,  one  pound  of 
butter,  a  dozen  eggs,  four  cans  of  Borden's 
milk,  many  jams,  and  plenty  of  wine.  So 
you  can  see  that,  with  the  regular  army 
rations,  we  are  a  long  way  from  starvation. 

We  have  draped  blankets  around  the  tent, 
Installed  a  kerosene-oU  stove,  and  with  many 
candles  and  punk  French  cigarettes  we  are 
prepared  to  enjoy  war  as  much  as  It  Is 
possible. 

These  bright  moonlight  nights  we've  heard 
various  enemy  aircraft  going  the  rounds  with 
their  bundles  of  joy;  but  with  a  huge  red 
cross  decorating  the  barracks,  some  well- 
placed  sand  bag  walls  and  the  general  run 
of  luck,  we  are  expecting  to  pull  through 
until  the  moon  darkens. 

Lately  I've  had  a  few  letters  come  In, 
but  nothing  later  than  that  one  written 
on  September  25.  These  must  have  caught 
slower  boats  or  found  a  too  remote  corner 
In    some    P.O.      Just    the    same,    they   wert 


92  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

as  welcome  as  though  they'd  come  right  off 
the  press. 

I  had  a  postal  from  Mrs.  Watkins,  with 
a  few  words  that  I  enjoyed.  If  you  can 
persuade  anyone  into  writing  me,  please 
let  them  know  how  much  I  would  appreciate 
it,  but  mostly  write  me  often  yourselves. 
I  can  always  be  happy  here  if  I  know  every- 
thing that  goes  on  at  home.  Maybe  the 
war  isn't  going  to  last  as  long  as  it  is  nec- 
essary to  make  people  in  America  think. 
Maybe  I'll  have  a  game  before  the  Bellair 
links  grow  up  for  another  summer.  I'm 
planning  on  it  and  almost  confidently  ex- 
pecting it. 


November  5 
Dear  Family: 

If  this  letter  doesn't  breathe  enthusiasm, 
it  misses  its  intent.  We've  done  left  the 
war  behind  us  and  are  way,  way  back  in 
safe  and  sane  repos. 

It  seems  to  be  the  custom  in  the  French 
Army   to   take   troops   back   to   some   town 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    93 

after  a  hard  attack,  —  and  with  the  troops 
we  go,  probably  for  a  month.  Of  course, 
we  didn't  need  the  rest,  but  I've  heard  no 
protests.  We're  in  a  pretty  little  quiet 
town,  not  too  far  from  Paris,  and  we  don't 
care  what  happens  up  at  the  front. 

And  we're  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land. 
I  have  a  regular  bedroom  all  to  myself  — 
a  bed  to  climb  into  at  night,  windows  to 
open,  a  mirror,  washstand,  and  everything. 
The  Lieutenant  has  the  adjoining  room. 

We  are  the  guests  of  a  semiprosperous 
wine-merchant  —  enforced  guests  through  the 
billet  system.  It's  more  luxury  than  I've 
had  since  that  one  Sunday  at  North  Scituate, 
and  if  you  could  see  the  picture  on  the  wall 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  bed,  you'd  think 
it  was  luxury  too. 

The  "lady  of  the  house"  serves  us  petit 
dejeuner  (young  breakfast)  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  and  the  other  meals  we  eat 
at  random. 

The  rest  of  the  boys  are  quartered  across 
the  street  on  the  second  floor  of  a  new  barn. 
The  cars  are  arranged  in  a  little  park  near-by 


94  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

and     we     are     repos-mg     for     all     we     are 
worth. 

Driver  of  the  staff  car  may  not  be  such 
an  enormous  title  to  gather  in  the  annals 
of  the  Great  War,  but  just  at  present  it 
suits  me.  All  the  privileges  you  could  want 
and  responsible  for  just  one  flivver  and  no 
more. 

Day  before  yesterday,  I  took  my  car  and 
wandered  all  over  France  looking  for  two 
trucks  we  lost  on  the  trip  down  from  the 
front.  Had  a  wonderful  time,  stopped  for 
luncheon  at  an  inn  in  an  historic  town,  and 
then  in  the  evening  drove  to  another  city 
to  meet  the  Lieutenant,  who  was  coming 
up  from  Paris  by  train. 

Today  we  were  inspected  by  the  Gen- 
eral of  our  French  Army.  Great  doings. 
Speeches  and  everything. 

And  this  afternoon  came  the  mail  man, 
with  beaucoup  mail. 

I  had  your  letters,  September  25  — 
October  4  —  one  from  Uncle  Torrey,  Hazel, 
and  several  from  Bee.  I'm  watching  out 
for  the  packages.     New  York  Tribunes  have 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    95 

started.  Had  a  fine  pair  of  socks  from 
Frances  Swift. 

When  my  furlough  comes  —  "permissions'* 
they  call  them  —  maybe  next  month,  I  think 
I'll  go  down  to  Nice  for  ten  days.  Railroad 
fare  gratis.  It'll  be  warm  there  and  maybe 
I  can  get  in  some  golf  and  forget  the  Army. 
Paris  is  just  a  city  and  wouldn't  be  my  idea 
of  a  vacation.  I  wish  I  could  slip  off  to 
Florida  for  that  time.  Darn  this  making 
war  so  far  from  home. 

The  Lieutenant  has  gone  off  to  a  dinner 
party  with  the  General  tonight  and  I've 
spent  a  happy  evening  alone  in  my  room 
reading  your  letters.  Now  to  bed  and  for 
the  Tribunes. 

I  miss  some  of  the  comforts  of  the  tent, 
but  am  content  in  a  bedroom. 


November  7 
Dear  Family: 

This   living  on  the  wine-merchant   is   the 
life.     Take  today:    arising  gently  but  firmly 


96  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

at  8  A.M.,  ushered  into  petit  dejeuner  at 
demi'huity  dozing  over  October  7  Sunday 
Tribune  in  front  of  W.  M.'s  fire  from  later 
until  considerably  later;  dejeuner  at  noon 
at  the  expense  of  our  near  army  cooks, 
filled  lamp  and  changed  bum  valve  for  good 
valve  on  front  right  tire.  Otherwise  re- 
mained by  the  fire  during  the  afternoon. 
Dinner  of  roast  beef  and  beans,  and  this 
evening  I'm  just  going  to  rest  up  in  the 
luxury  of  my  bedroom.  Not  so  bad  for  the 
army.     I  could  stand  a  lot  of  it. 

The  Tribunes  have  been  a  treat.  I  read 
them  as  religiously  as  though  they  came 
fresh  from  the  presses.  The  war  articles 
in  the  Sunday  are  splendid,  except  when 
they  predict  peace  in   1919. 

Today's  Le  Matin  predicts  that  the  pro- 
Germans  elected  Hylan  in  New  York,  yester- 
day. It  also  recounted  how  the  boys  in 
the  trenches  even  cast  their  vote,  but  I 
didn't  see  any  polling  place  around  our 
camp. 

Tomorrow  I'm  going  into  Paris,  osten- 
sibly to  help  the  Lieutenant  bring  out  our 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    97 

last  month's  pay,  but  really  to  celebrate 
my  birthday. 

When  I  first  went  up  to  the  front  I  mailed 
several  letters  to  you  at  the  Civilian  P.O. 
back  in  a  town.  They  might  have  been  held 
up.  That  was  before  I  knew  about  the 
military  P.O.'s.  The  French  give  us  a 
splendid  service,  mail  every  day,  but  things 
are  of  course  held  up  in  the  U.S.  P.O.  in 
Paris.  The  most  exasperating  thing  is  to 
know  that  parcels  are  waiting  for  you  some- 
where. Eventually  they'll  all  get  through, 
I'm  sure. 

I  am  suddenly  beginning  to  learn  French, 
despite  everything  I  can  do  to  stop  it. 
Mine  host  comes  in  frequently  and  we  have 
the  grandest  combat  of  words  you  ever 
heard.  As  long  as  there  is  someone  around 
who  speaks  English,  you  don't  even  try 
to  understand  the  Frenchies,  but  when  you 
get  marooned  with  the  Parlez-vous,  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  parler  aussi. 

We  are  having  some  rain  and  fairly  mild 
weather.  The  foliage  has  just  passed  the 
brilliant    stage.     The    climate    is    about    the 


98  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

same  as  Washington,  I  should  judge.  I've 
never  felt  so  consistently  well  as  I  do  here. 
The  Army  must  agree  with  me  even  if  it 
doesn't  with  my  disposition.  I  don't  think 
I'll  ever  leave  America  again.  We  are  more 
civilized  in  so  many  ways,  and  besides,  I 
do  like  icewater  occasionally. 

And  now  I've  got  to  shine  up  my  shoes 
and  leggins  so  I  can  hit  Paris  with  all  pos- 
sible grandeur. 


November  lo 
Dear  Family: 

I  COULD  drop  into  Clearwater  this  morning 
without  any  regrets  at  all.  It's  cold  and 
rainy  outside  and  I  am  glad  I  don't  have  to 
step  outside  the  door.  And  in  Clearwater 
I'll  bet  the  sun  is  shining,  with  the  old 
thermom.  up  around  85. 

Anyway,  I  celebrated  my  birthday  as  per 
cable,  gloriously  in  Paris.  The  Lieutenant 
and  I  went  in  on  the  morning  train,  shot 
through  a  little  business  quickly,  and  then 
devoted  the  balance  of  our  time  to  modest 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    99 

celebration.  We  started  out  to  trail  down 
an  American  bar  and  found  a  place  where 
you  could  discard  the  parlez-vous,  put  your 
foot  on  the  rail,  and  say:  "Draw  one!" 
Icecold,  too. 

Aussi,  we  indulged  in  a  wicked  game  of 
pool,  rode  ad  lib.  in  taxi-cabs,  and  had  two 
separate  banquets.  Taxis  in  Paris  are  fully 
as  cheap  as  I'd  been  told  but  hadn't  believed. 
The  meter  starts  at  15  cents  and  you  have 
to  ride  a  deuce  of  a  ways  before  it  jumps 
-  to  17  cents.  Otherwise,  Paris  is  New  York 
to  me.  Such  of  the  American  soldiers  as 
have  the  luck  to  be  at  war  in  Paris  are  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  throng.  You  don't  see 
many. 

The  restaurants  are  crowded  with  gay 
parties  and  the  prices  high.  The  only  war 
economy  I  could  see  was  that  things  begin 
to  run  out  on  the  menu  toward  evening. 
You  know  —  "We're  just  out.  More  to- 
morrow." But  there  wasn't  any  tomorrow 
for  us.  We  caught  a  train  home  around 
ten  o'clock  and  were  entertained  on  the  ride 
by   a    French    colonel    in   our   compartment. 


lOO  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

He  could  speak  two  words  of  English,  a  little 
German,  and  much  French.  We  could  do 
the  same  in  dijfferent  proportions.  The  con- 
versation waxed  furious  at  times  and  by 
degrees  became  such  a  hodge-podge  Espe- 
ranto affair  that  no  one  understood  what  the 
other  two  were  saying,  and  only  by  strict 
attention  knew  what  he  was  saying  himself. 
I  am  rapidly  losing  control  of  the  English 
language,  but  am  thinking  of  taking  up 
Italian  as  a  pastime. 

Yesterday  there  was  no  time  to  recover 
from  Paris.  Right  after  breakfast  I  dis- 
covered a  *'miss"  in  the  Henry.  With  a 
little  diplomacy,  I  ensnared  one  of  the  me- 
chanics and  stood  by  and  "helped"  while 
he  took  off  the  engine  head  to  interview 
the  phony  cylinder.  It  was  all  about  a 
valve  that  wouldn't  seat  —  (which  wasn't 
in  my  vocabulary  before)  —  but  it  was  noon 
before  Henry  was  herself  again. 

We  drove  to  town  for  lunch  and  a  few 
errands.  Visited  some  Americans  in  an  auto- 
mobile training  school  and  had  to  answer 
more    questions    than    we    could    ask.     Such 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    lOl 

as:  "What  does  a  trench  look  hke?"  "Why- 
is  a  bomb?"  etc. 

Back  to  the  room,  where  we  did  light- 
housekeeping  for  dinner.  And  then  ten 
rounds  of  real  slumber. 

Today  n.d.  (nothing  doing),  which  suits 
me  very  well. 


November  jj 
Dear  Family: 

This  is  a  frosty  morning  —  regular  foot- 
ball weather.  I  have  no  longing  to  live  in 
a  tent.  The  tops  of  the  cars  are  covered  with 
frost,  even  though  the  sun  has  been  up  for 
two  hours.  Breakfast  in  front  of  an  open 
fire  was  most  agreeable.  I  take  my  morning 
exercise  by  cranking  my  Henry.  I've  used 
up  my  first  supply  of  New  York  Tribunes 
and  am  looking  forward  to  the  next  batch. 
Also,  the  birthday  box,  which  must  come  in 
a  day  or  so. 

We  had  moving  day  here  yesterday.  The 
"nice"  barn  where  the  boys  were  quartered 
proved   pretty  breezy.     So  we   requisitioned 


102  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

a  salle  de  danse  down  town  and  there  they 
are  entrenched  behind  a  few  wood-burning 
stoves.  In  the  front  yard,  practically,  there 
is  a  billiard  parlor  that  is  about  as  Frenchy 


^■H  ^jftr/S"*-^ 


as  anything  I  ever  saw.  We  flocked  into  the 
place  last  night,  took  possession  of  the  piano, 
etc.,  and  spent  a  regular  musical  comedy, 
"war  evening."  That  is,  until  eight  o'clock, 
when  French  curfew  sounds  in  all  these 
military  towns. 

Today  they  began  a  series  of  twenty- 
four-hour  permissions  in  Paris.  Mine  will 
come  along  in  a  few  days  and  I'm  going  to 
try    to    do    some    Christmas    shopping  —  al- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    103 

though  the  question  of  maiHng  things  back 
is  still  rather  vague.  Most  of  the  interest- 
ing things  it  is  verboten  to  send  out  of  the 
country.  And  it  would  be  rather  rough 
for  you  to  have  to  pay  duty  on  insignificant 
junk. 

The  arrival  of  the  morning  papers  from 
Paris  just  interrupted  me  while  I  made 
considerable  effort  to  discover  the  news  of 
the  day.  The  only  bit  of  American  gossip 
was  something  about  an  accord  between 
Japan  and  America,  for  which  I  couldn't 
arouse  enough  enthusiasm  to  puzzle  over  the 
translation.  Those  eminent  members  of 
Congress  who  made  the  long  trip  to  visit 
the  three  fronts  somehow  missed  our  camp. 
I  might  have  suggested  to  them  that  if  they'd 
give  us  more  American  tobacco  and  less 
American  red  tape,  we'd  make  a  better  army. 

By  the  way,  our  Greek  top-sergeant  has 
been  deposed  and  we  are  now  enjoying  the 
reign  of  a  Harvardized  Californian  whose 
only  bad  habit  is  chewing  tobacco.  "Min- 
nie" Frye,  who  used  to  pitch  bang-up  ball 
for   Harvard,   is   now  sergeant  of  the   mess. 


104  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

He  is  meeting  more  difficulties  than  the 
Yale  batters  ever  presented.  But  somehow 
things  are  running  smoothly  and  the  days 
pass  on  very  rapidly. 

I've  got  to  go  upstairs  now,  shave  off  a 
three-day  growth,  and  be  ready  to  chauffeur 
more  or  less  officers  around  the  country. 


November  75 
Dear  Family: 

The  mail  may  do  some  queer  things, 
but  every  once  in  a  while  it  brings  us  very 
closely  together.  For  instance,  last  night 
came  a  letter  from  Pop,  dated  New  York, 
October  23.  It  was  just  after  Hazel  had 
heard  from  Bob  Dort  that  I  was  driving 
a  headquarters'  car  in  Paris.  Sorry  you 
couldn't  go  on  thinking  that  —  but  then, 
I've  been  just  as  safe  as  in  Paris  most  of  the 
time  and  don't  expect  any  more  front  work 
this  winter. 

Enclosed  is  an  account  of  our  citation  by 
the  French  Government.  Of  course,  I  don't 
deny   having   been   brave,    but    I    can't   re- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    105 

member  it  very  distinctly.  It  was  a  case 
of  being  in  on  a  successful  attack,  after  which 
everyone  gathers  far  back  from  the  lines  and 
passes   around    congratulations. 


Mercy  Workers 

Win  Renown 

For  Daring 

Two  new  sections  of  the  United  States 
Army  Ambulance  Service,  Nos.  i  and  12, 
which  are  among  the  sections  recently  arrived 
from  Allentown,  Pa.,  for  active  duty  in  France 
as  a  part  of  the  American  army,  have  distin- 
guished themselves  by  their  fine  work  at  the 
front,  according  to  a  letter  to  the  chief  of  the 
United  States  Army  Ambulance  Service  written 
by  the  French  commander  to  whose  service  the 
American  sections  are  attached. 

Lieutenant  John  P.  Bethel,  of  Section  No.  i, 
and  Lieutenant  E.  K.  Moore,  of  Section  No. 
12,  have  been  recommended  for  the  Croix 
de  Guerre. 

The  two  sections  were  cited  in  army  orders, 
and  the  French  commander  spoke  in  the  highest 
terms  of  praise  for  their  bravery  and  efficient 
work. 

The  United  States  Army  Ambulance  Service 
has  about  forty-five  sections  now  on  active 
duty,  about  half  of  which  are  Allentown  men, 
while  the  others  are  the  reorganized  and  mili- 
tarized sections  of  the  former  volunteer  ambu- 
lance services,  the  American  Field  and  Harjes- 
Norton  Ambulance  services. 

N.  Y.  Herald,  Paris  Ed.,  Nov.  14. 


Io6  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Aussi^  I  enclose,  as  war  relics,  if  you  like, 
two  bills.  One  is  from  our  host,  the  fat 
wine-merchant,  for  petit  dejeuner  and  care 
of  the  room;  the  other,  for  our  monthly 
wash.  Don't  confuse  the  chemises  men- 
tioned in  the  latter  as  anything  feminine. 
They  are  merely  shirts.  2  caleqons  are 
common  everyday  underdrawers;  /  sac 
is  the  laundry  bag,  etc.  Both  bills  are 
paid  —  so  you  needn't  worry  about  them 
further. 

Today  the  mailman  outdid  himself  and 
brought  me  a  package.  It  was  the  one 
with  beaucoup  Fatimas,  life  savers,  khaki 
shirt,  gloves,  and  a  corking  pair  of  white 
stockings.  And  I  was  just  as  happy  over 
everything  as  any  child  at  a  Christmas 
tree.  Package  mail  seems  to  run  on  a 
crazy  schedule,  but  each  day  some  few  come 
through  to  various  men  in  the  section. 

Lately  we  have  made  a  few  revisions  in 
our  feeding  schedule  and  now  have  a  cork- 
ing system  whereby  we  sit  down  to  three 
"squares"  per  diem.  We  continue  petit  de- 
jeuner   at    our    official    residence  —  and    the 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    107 

other  two  are  taken  care  of  by  a  woman 
who  runs  a  cafe  around  the  corner.  She 
has  lost  her  restaurant  Hcense  since  the 
war,  but  I  buy  the  food  and  she  cooks  and 
serves  for  thirty  cents  a  day  for  both  the 
Lieutenant  and  myself.  So  far,  each  meal 
has  been  a  dream,  only  I  can't  recognize 
the  stuff  I  buy  at  the  markets  when  It  comes 
on  the  table. 

We  are  having  a  pleasant  spell  of  Indian 
summer  —  preparatory  for  something  terrible 
along  about  Thanksgiving,  I  suppose,  al- 
though the  natives  say  snow  Is  rare  and 
zero  weather  never  happens. 

Orders  from  headquarters  yesterday 
brought  word  that  we  are  all  entitled  to  ten 
days'  furlough  every  four  months,  to  date 
from  the  day  of  enlistment.  That  will  give 
me  twenty  days  of  freedom  between  now  and 
February  20.  But  you  can  bet  I'm  not 
going  to  use  any  of  it  up  while  we  are  com- 
fortably entrenched  with  the  wine-merchant. 
It  will  be  more  welcome  when  the  snow  Is 
piled  up  around  some  barren  shack  nearer 
the  lines. 


io8 


CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


I  have  more  to  say,  but  it's  time  to  start 
for  dinner. 


November  20 
Dear  Family: 

My    birthday    box    has    arrived!     I    wish 
you  could  know  how  much  fun  I  had  open- 


ing it  and  how  I  appreciate  every  single 
thing  you  put  into  it,  from  the  crumpled-up 
Traveler  stuffed  in  the  bottom  to  Hazel's 
fancy   typewritten   list   on   the   roof.     There 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    109 

was  plenty  of  room  in  my  barracks  bag 
for  everything  that  wasn't  immediately  con- 
sumable. There  were  so  many  things  that 
have  to  do  with  washing  the  face  and  hands 
that  I  hate  to  confess  that,  behind  the  lines, 
we  wash  seldom,  and  at  the  front  not  at  all. 
Possibly,  when  the  warmer  months  come 
our  habits  will  improve.  The  towels  and 
handkerchiefs,  however,  came  in  the  nick 
of  time,  for  in  my  wanderings  I  have  man- 
aged to  lose  track  of  most  of  those  with  which 
I  started  the  war.  The  knife  brings  relief 
to  a  score  of  fellows  who  have  been  liberal 
with  their  own,  and  although  I  scorned 
an  air  pillow  in  Allentown,  it  is  certainly 
welcome  here. 

The  box  came  Saturday,  the  sixteenth, 
but  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  a  letter  off 
before  to  tell  you  how  happy  it  made  me. 
With  the  Boston  Travelers  arriving  and  New 
York  Tribunes  and  Clearwater  Suns  around 
me,  it  seems  as  though  I  had  all  the  comforts 
of  home. 

I  had  a  package  from  Bee  in  the  same  mail 
with  her  premier  knitted  scarf  and  a  leather 


no  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

trench    cigarette   case    (although    I    hope   to 
keep  out  of  the  trenches). 

Yesterday  the  Lieutenant  and  I  started 
on  a  long  motor  trip.  Armed  with  a  French 
road  map  and  a  weak  vocabulary  of 
questions,  we  wound  our  way  successfully 
through  numerous  towns  and  finally  came 
to  the  U.S.A.  ambulance  base  camp  at 
noon. 

It  was  the  same  Red  Cross  base  we  had 
vacated  two  months  before,  but  so  different. 
When  we  left  it  was  a  quiet,  peaceful  farm, 
and  we  found  it  yesterday  jammed  with 
Ford  cars,  curious  officers,  and  crabbing 
soldiers.  Barracks,  posted  rules,  and  auto- 
mobile parts  littered  up  the  landscape  some- 
thing awful.  But  we  were  "regulars"  coming 
in  from  the  front  and  they  were  amateurs 
getting  ready.  I  answered  more  questions 
and  told  more  lies  during  the  course  of  the 
day  and  evening  than  I  like  to  remember. 

We  loaded  up  a  truck  with  supplies,  an- 
nexed a  rolling  kitchen,  swapped  our  gray 
Ford  for  a  nice  new  camouflaged  Ford,  and 
came  back  to  our  own  camp  today. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING    III 

I'm  certainly  glad  that  I  graduated  early 
from  a  cantonment.  When  you  once  get 
away  from  the  crowd  and  under  the  com- 
mand of  one  officer,  everything  goes  smoothly 
and  everyone  is  much  happier. 

I'm  not  worrying  one  bit  about  the  hard- 
ships of  a  winter,  for  the  French  have  learned 
to  take  care  of  their  men  and  we  fall  under 
their  care.  They  have  given  us  big  sheep- 
skin overcoats  with  fur  collars,  and  as  long 
as  we  fight  shy  of  the  Alps,  I  know  we  will 
keep  warm. 

At  present,  the  Lieutenant  and  I  are  having 
the  best  meals  in  all  France.  We  had  a 
regular  Sunday  dinner,  with  chicken,  peas, 
beans,  potatoes,  salad,  etc.  —  all  the  result 
of  my  expert  shopping  and  an  adept  French 
cook. 

I  'm  booked  to  go  into  Paris  tomorrow  — 
strictly  for  pleasure  and  no  duties.  Tonight 
I've  got  some  shoes  to  shine  up  and  two 
buttons  to  sew  on. 


112  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


November  2j 
Dear  Family: 

I  JUST  had  a  telegram  from  Hazel,  saying 
that  you  were  all  well  on  November  ii  — 
so  I  can  be  pretty  happy  In  the  present. 
Pop's  last  letter  was  dated  October  23  in 
New  York,  and  the  next  one  should  come 
soon,  full  of  Clearwater  news. 

I'm  just  back  from  twenty-four  hours  of 
Paris,  without  much  spirit  for  war.  There 
were  so  many  rumors  floating  around  about 
our  leaving  that  I  was  afraid  of  not  getting 
in  my  short  leave.  But  Wednesday  after- 
noon things  were  quiet,  and  I  said,  at  a 
diplomatic  moment,  **If  we  aren't  moving 
tomorrow,  I'd  just  as  soon  take  a  shoot 
Into  Paris  tonight."  While  the  clerk  was 
making  out  a  pass,  I  reminded  the  Lieutenant 
that  there  was  an  express  at  five,  and  why 
didn't  he  come,  too.  One  of  the  boys  drove 
us  to  an  express  stop  station  and  we  were 
in    Paris   by   dinner   time.     Dinner,   theatre, 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING  1 13 
and  a  luxurious  hotel  room  passed  along 
very  nicely. 

The  locations  (seats)  in  Parisian  theatres 
don't  cost  very  much,  but  every  other  step 
you  have  to  tip  somebody.  I  nearly  broke 
up  the  show  by  not  realizing  that  ushers 
are  licensed  to  graft.  But  two  English 
officers  beside  me  made  the  same  blunder. 
The  programs  cost  forty  centimes,  but  you 
don't  get  back  any  change  —  aussi  when 
you  buy  a  glass  of  beer  in  the  lobby.  Men 
wear  hats  until  the  curtain  rises  and  smok- 
ing goes  on  freely.  We  went  to  the 
Alhambra,  a  variety  theatre  under  English 
management.  Two  American  rag-time  acts 
brought  big  applause  from  the  French. 

The  Lieutenant  took  the  morning  train 
back  and  I  hung  on  for  the  day.  I  walked 
my  legs  off  for  two  hours  trying  to  buy  a 
couple  of  Christmas  presents,  and  all  I 
finished  up  with  was  a  Saturday  Evepost 
and  a  New  York  Tribune! 

Then  I  took  a  Turkish  bath.  And  perhaps 
you  don't  realize  what  an  accomplishment 
that  was  with  my  command  of  the  language. 


114  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

The  idea  occurred  to  me  when  I  was  walking 
down  the  Rue  des  Italian  and  I  began  to 
wonder  what  Turkish  bath  could  be  in 
French.  Someone  said  "Good  morning"  and 
I  turned  to  see  an  Englishman  in  a  doorway, 
who  wanted  to  be  friendly. 

He  directed  me  to  the  "Hammen  Bain." 
That  may  be  the  name  of  the  establishment, 
or  it  may  mean  Turkish  bath.  *'Bain" 
is  "bath"  all  right,  but  I  can't  figure  the 
"Hammen."    It  was  what  I  wanted,  anyway. 

After  a  gorgeous  steam,  scrub,  and 
massage,  the  attendant  led  me  off,  held  up 
a  canvas  gate,  and  said  something  funny. 
There  was  a  little  water  in  front  of  me, 
so  I  took  a  chance  and  dove.  Under  a  can- 
vas wall  and  out  into  a  sort  of  Paradise 
I  came  swimmingly.  Another  attendant  met 
me  at  a  landing  stage,  wrapped  me  up  in 
blankets  and  carried  me  off  to  a  gorgeous 
Oriental  lounge.  When  they  brought  me 
a  sherry  flip,  cigarettes,  and  a  magazine, 
I  felt  nearer  a  civilian  than  for  a  long  while. 
Here  I  spent  three  hours  of  my  time  in 
Paris. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING    115 

I  came  back  on  a  6  o'clock  train  and  was 
glad  to  find  that  the  section  hadn't  moved. 
And  now  we  may  be  here  for  some  time 
longer.  Twelve  of  the  fellows  have  gone 
off  on  a  ten-day  permission.  Some  of  them 
went  to  Nice  and  promised  to  bring  back 
reports  on  golf  possibilities. 

We  haven't  had  any  winter  yet,  but  the 
most  frightful  fog  every  day.  The  big  Brit- 
ish drive  of  yesterday  has  put  everyone  in 
good  spirits.  It  was  so  different  from  our 
drive  of  last  month,  when  there  were  weeks 
of  artillery  preparation  until  everyone  from 
Berlin  to  Paris  knew  there  was  going  to  be 
an  attack.  But  yesterday  the  English  sailed 
right  out  into  the  fog  before  a  gun  had  been 
fired,  and  kept  right  on  going. 

I  think  we'll  all  be  feeling  cheerful  along 
about  next  spring. 

I  am  getting  fatter  by  the  minute.  One 
hundred  and  forty-three  pounds  with  my 
overcoat  on  yesterday.  All  the  fellows  seem 
to  keep  in  far  better  health  than  they  ever 
did  in  civilian  life. 

But  we  don't  like  it,  just  the  same. 


Il6  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

November  24 
Dear  Family: 

Nothing  has  happened  today  and  there's 
nothing  to  write  about,  but  I'll  drop  a  line 
against  the  time  when  there  is  too  much 
doing  for  letters. 

I  've  spent  a  day  of  glorious  rest  and  three 
good  meals.  Sat  in  front  of  the  fire  and 
read  all  morning  except  for  chasing  down 
town  to  do  the  day's  shopping.  For 
luncheon  we  had  some  canned  lobster  with 
most  delicious  mayonnaise.  For  dinner  — 
soup,  steak,  French  fried  potatoes,  string 
beans,  and  chocolate  eclairs.  We  certainly 
are  getting  the  best  meals  in  all  of  France. 

This  afternoon  the  Lieutenant  and  I 
breezed  over  to  our  near-by  city  for  a  few 
errands.  My  new  car  goes  like  a  whizz. 
This  is  the  most  beautiful  rolling  country 
you  ever  saw,  even  in  this  late  ugly  fall. 
I  heard  a  French  regimental  band  —  the 
first  I've  heard  in  the  war.  They  were 
leading  a  procession  of  infantrymen,  bound 
perhaps  for  Italy. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING      1 17 

We  ordered  some  turkeys  for  Thanks- 
giving dinner  —  although  where  we  will  be 
to  eat  them  no  one  knows.  I  have  a  feeling 
we'll  still  be  here. 

My  French  is  progressing  by  leaps  and 
bounds.  If  the  war  continues  long  enough 
I  may  develop  into  a  linguist  after  all.  Not 
that  I  study  the  language  or  try  to  learn 
it,  but  being  right  with  the  French  army, 
it  is  sort  of  forced  down  my  throat. 

I  bought  some  films  today  and  am  going 
to  take  a  few  snaps  that  don't  include 
scenery  to  send  home.  Several  of  the  boys 
have  smuggled  in  cameras,  but  it  is  pretty 
hard  to  get  anything  developed. 

I  should  have  been  going  to  the  Harvard- 
Yale  football  game  today.  It  is  a  pretty 
warm  day  for  the  Saturday  before  Thanks- 
giving. Beautiful  moonlight  tonight  and 
thank  goodness  we  are  far  enough  back  so 
the  avians  can't  rob  us  of  any  sleep.  They 
are  treacherous  beasts  up  at  the  front,  but 
everyone  lives  in  caves  or  has  an  abri  handy, 
so  the  victims  are  few. 

It's    quarter   of  eight   and    I'm   yawning. 


Il8  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

I  get  In  eleven  hours  of  sleep  almost  every 
night. 


Sunday,  November  25 
Dear  Family: 

A  BATCH  of  mail  came  today  —  some  of 
that  late  mail  that  you  don't  expect  but  are 
so  glad  to  get.  Bee  sent  a  clipping  from  the 
New  York  Times  by  the  author  of  "Over 
the  Top,"  who  said  that  war  isn't  as  bad 
as  it  is  cracked  up  to  be. 

And  it  isn't. 

Back  at  home,  you  have  an  idea  that  it  is 
all  terrible,  and  so  did  I.  It  is  terrible  to 
be  away  from  home  and  friends,  but  that's 
very  close  to  all  of  its  misery. 

You  are  only  in  danger  when  you're  at 
the  front,  and  even  for  the  infantry  that 
is  a  very  small  percentage  of  the  time.  With 
our  work  different  individuals  have  had 
thrilling  experiences,  but  the  bulk  of  the 
work  of  the  ambulance  service  is  carried  on 
over  safe  roads.  Accidents  can  happen,  of 
course,   but   they   are   so   rare   that   no   one 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     119 

ever  thinks  about  them  as  at  all  likely. 
And  most  of  the  time  our  work  is  back  in 
repos  towns.  Such  a  small  per  cent  of  any. 
one  army  can  be  at  the  front  at  a  given 
time  that  all  the  little  towns  back  are  full 
of  resting  troops. 

We  are  attached  to  a  certain  division  of 
troops  and  go  wherever  they  go.  For  in- 
stance, here  we  have  one  or  two  cars  a  day 
who  go  around  to  pick  up  the  sick  in  the 
various  villages  where  they  are  billeted. 

It  is  the  mystery  rather  than  the  fact  of 
war  that  is  terrifying.  I  wish  you  could 
see  it  all  and  know  just  what  I'm  doing. 
You'd  feel  lots  better  about  it,  I  know. 

At  present,  I  am  about  as  comfortable  as 
I  could  be  any  place  except  home.  The 
Lieutenant  and  I  have  become  very  good 
friends  and  manage  to  have  some  fun  out 
of  nearly  everything  that  comes  along.  He 
is  a  Philadelphia  doctor,  forty-three  years 
old,  but  just  as  congenial  as  anyone  else  in 
the  section  could  be.  We  have  long  since 
forgotten  all  the  military  rot  that  was  fed 
us  back  at  Allentown.     We  have  a  machine 


I20  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  go  when  and  where  we  please  and  if  we 
only  knew  just  when  it  would  all  be  over, 
we  could  be  very  happy  in  the  present. 

This  has  been  a  clear,  crisp  football  after- 
noon. We  got  up  a  game  of  association 
football  and  played  until  no  one  had  any 
breath  left.  Tonight  is  one  of  those  gor- 
geous moonlight  nights  that  makes  me  long 
for  Clearwater. 

Tomorrow  we  are  sending  a  truck  Into 
Paris  to  buy  up  all  the  town  for  a  Thanks- 
giving dinner.  Tomorrow  night  we  have 
two  big  fat  quail  for  dinner.  Our  cook  is 
named  Madame  Martin,  and  naturally  we 
speak  of  her  place  as  Cafe  Martin. 

Only  in  Paris  do  we  ever  see  any  sign  that 
American  troops  are  in  France.  I  have 
the  Paris  edition  of  the  New  York  Herald 
every  day  —  but  that  has  only  an  occasional 
reference  to  the  troops. 

You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  that  I 
am  here  instead  of  in  one  of  those  camps 
in  America.  I  was  discontented  almost  every 
minute  in  Allentown,  but  here  —  never! 

And  not  even  a  cold  yet. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING     I2I 


,y->\  "^ 


Wednesday,  November  28 
Dear  Family: 

After  one  glorious  day  of  sunshine,  we 
settle  back  to  the  customary  fog  and  mist. 
I  hug  the  fireplace  closer  and  closer  and  only 
stick  my  nose  out  for  an  occasional  brief 
errand.  Sometime  last  night  a  little  snow 
flickered  down  but  this  morning  there  was 
only  enough  left  for  a  single  snowball. 

I'm  reading  about  the  World  Series,  in 
some  ancient  Tribunes,  religiously  —  and  am 
just  as  disgusted  with  the  Headless  Hessian 


122  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

for  trying  to  shove  Eddie  Collins  across  the 
plate  as  if  it  had  happened  yesterday. 

The  dope  of  the  war  experts  has  an 
interest  for  me  never  born  in  America.  In 
spite  of  all  their  wisdom  and  science,  I  have 
a  feeling  that  peace  is  nearer  than  they 
dare  suggest.  Maybe  it  is  because  I  want 
it  so  —  but  naturally  every  one  else  who  is 
at  all  intimately  connected  with  the  awful 
war  wants  it  just  as  badly. 

I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  along 
about  February  Germany  would  have  some- 
thing to  offer  that  would  startle  everyone. 
Things  are  so  apt  to  happen  in  February  — 
why  not  peace,  aussi? 

The  Germans  who  are  up  in  Russia  trying 
to  find  out  who  is  who  will  be  frozen  up  by 
then,  likewise  those  wintering  in  the  Alps 
for  Italy's  benefit,  and  those  on  this  front 
will  have  an  awful  premonition  that  the 
mythical  American  reinforcements  are  pon- 
derous facts. 

We  are  counting  our  days  of  comfort  and 
luxury  on  our  fingers,  never  knowing  when 
our  repos  will  come  to  a  close.     No  matter 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     123 

where  we  are  in  winter,  it  is  bound  to  be 
repos,  but  without  the  hospitaUty  of  the 
fat  wine-merchant. 

But  we  are  bound  to  have  a  good  Thanks- 
giving dinner,  for  we  took  with  a  grain  of 
salt  the  message  that  Uncle  Sam  would 
provide  all  his  soldiers  at  the  front  with 
turkeys  and  bought  our  own,  pumpkin  pies 
and  everything.  We  are  so  isolated  from 
the  American  Army  that  they  don't  know 
we  exist. 

Last  night  the  Lieutenant  and  I  had  a 
feast  on  a  roasted  rabbit.  It  was  a  new 
dish  to  me,  but  every  bit  as  good  as  chicken. 

Yesterday  I  discovered  the  most  wonder- 
ful little  chateau  near  here,  a  handsome  old 
house  set  in  about  five  acres  of  honest-to- 
goodness  scenery.  There  was  a  little  mill 
stream  winding  around,  an  island,  many  fir 
trees  and  an  ivy-covered  bridge.  And  out 
back  several  glassed  greenhouses,  a  garden, 
and  everything  to  make  you  feel  like  a 
prosperous  country  gentleman.  A  little  old 
lady  lived  there  alone  with  her  servants. 
Someone  said  she'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  the 


124  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

whole  thing,  including  two  dogs  and  the 
chickens  for  ^5000.  I  nearly  bought  an 
equity  on  the  spot. 

Today  we  are  going  to  brave  the  rain  and 
change  our  diet  by  running  over  to  our 
near-by  city  for  luncheon.  It  is  16  K.  from 
here,  which  I  have  learned  to  know  means 
about  10  miles. 

If  I  ever  learn  to  think  in  the  French 
measures,  weights,  and  monies,  I'll  be  some 
intelligent.  When  they  say  a  place  is  60 
K.'s  away,  I  rapidly  change  it  to  miles; 
when  I  order  a  demi-livre  of  butter,  ditto  — 
and  when  they  say  10  francs  to  me  it  means 
2  dollars  every  time. 

It  doesn't  look  as  though  I'd  be  home  for 
Christmas.  Things  have  got  to  start  hap- 
pening darn  quick  if  I  'm  to  catch  the  Christ- 
mas boat.  But  then,  if  I  was  dramatic 
critic-ing  on  the  Traveler,  maybe  I'd  be  just 
as  absent. 

Write  often,  because  your  letters  make  me 
so  happy. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     125 


November  jo 
Dear  Family: 

We  had  our  Thanksgiving  dinner  all  right! 
It  went  off  with  a  rip  and  a  roar  yesterday 
along  about  2  p.m.  We  sat  down  to  a  regular 
table  —  white  table-cloth  and  everything  — 
jammed  up  with  all  the  kinds  of  food  you 
can  think  of.  The  cranberry  sauce  was 
missing,  but  there  were  six  big  turkeys,  with 
chestnut  dressing,  for  thirty  of  us.  So  every- 
one is  happy  today  and  planning  on  a  better 
Christmas  dinner. 

Just  to  whet  up  an  appetite  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  boys  staged  a  football  game  out  on 
an   ex-terrain  de  foot  ball.     Despite   the   sea 


126  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

of  mud,  the  "Low  brows"  beat  the  ** Rough 
necks"  7-0.  Meanwhile  an  increasing  audi- 
ence of  poilus  applauded,  sympathized,  and 
marveled,  and  wondered  whatin'el  Thanks- 
giving was  about  anyway. 

Today  I  've  spent  the  usual  lazy  day  — 
marketing  this  morning,  which  has  gotten 
to  be  quite  an  affair  since  the  French  Lieu- 
tenant has  cast  his  lot  with  ours.  Drove 
twenty  miles  this  afternoon  to  see  one  of  the 
boys  in  a  hospital.  He  has  an  infected 
finger  but  the  prettiest  nurse  in  all  of  France, 
and  so  managed  to  keep  happy.  Had  two 
large  wheels  put  on  the  front  of  my  car, 
and  now  it  is  only  four  o'clock,  with  nothing 
to  do  until  tomorrow. 

Here  it  is  the  last  day  of  November  and 
not  a  scrap  of  November  mail  has  found 
its  way  from  America  into  our  camp.  I 
was  glad  to  have  Hazel's  cable  and  know 
that  you're  all  well. 

The  Lieutenant  and  I  have  taken  to 
cribbage  in  self-defence  against  these  monot- 
onous evenings  when  our  reading  matter 
gives  out. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING     127 

One  native  forecaster  about  here  says  we 
will  only  have  a  day  or  two  of  winter  in 
December,  and  I'm  willing  to  let  191 8  take 
care  of  itself.  Two  weeks  of  January  I  am 
planning  to  spend  in  Nice,  right  beside  the 
golf  course. 


,.:2»«*v 


Sunday y  December  p 
Dear  Family: 

I  WISH  you  could  see  where  I  am  writing 
from  this  morning.  You  can't  describe  it. 
It  would  sound  too  grand,  or  too  grimy, 
and  it  is  neither.  If  you  only  heard  about 
the  red-tiled  floor,  the  beamed  ceiling,  and 
the  big  canopied  bed,  you'd  picture  me  with 
a  butler  at  the  door  and  a  few  flunkies  around 
the  gate. 


128  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

But  it  isn't  true.  We  have  the  ground 
floor  front  of  a  peasant's  shack,  a  highly 
cultivated  manure  patch  in  the  front  yard, 
and  are  feebly  attended  by  a  grandpa  peasant 
who  accepts  a  franc  on  all  occasions.  It's 
a  toss-up  between  luxury  and  poverty,  but 
we  feel  more  at  home  than  at  any  place 
along  the  line. 

We  are  in  a  little  village  behind  the  front, 
waiting  —  probably  waiting  for  Christmas, 
for  I  can't  imagine  any  army  brave  enough 
to  pull  off  an  attack  in  this  freezo  weather. 

It  was  rather  a  surprise  when  the  orders 
came.  We'd  had  other  directions  and  were 
all  ready  to  move  only  a  few  miles  to  a  city 
nearer  Paris. 

Wednesday  evening  a  messenger  appeared 
from  nowhere  at  all  and  early  the  next 
morning  we  were  chasing  back  up  toward 
the  front.  We  made  a  perfect  run,  in  spite 
of  the  leakiest  bunch  of  radiators  you  ever 
saw.  I  traveled  always  behind  the  column 
and  followed  the  course  as  easily  as  you'd 
trail  a  sprinkling  cart.  Outside  a  broken 
spring,  a  smashed  radiator,  and  twenty  odd 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     129 

punctures  everything  went  finely,  and  we 
were  introduced  to  this  town  by  dayhght. 

There's  a  cathedral  here  fully  twice  as 
large  as  St.  Paul's,  a  half  a  dozen  shacks,  and 
a  few  barns.  I  haven't  found  out  who 
left  the  cathedral  behind  or  why,  but  they 
didn't  leave  rhuch  else. 

The  boys  are  quartered  in  a  rather  un- 
fashionable loft  over  a  shack.  They've 
drained  the  gas  and  water  out  of  the  cars 
and  settled  down  to  wait  and  freeze. 

We  have  a  wood  stove  in  our  room  that 
burns  up  as  much  wood  as  a  blast  furnace 
and  doesn't  give  out  any  more  heat  than 
an  electric  fan.  I  spent  most  of  the  day 
between  the  wood-pile  and  the  stove. 

Yesterday  we  explored  around  for  a  city 
and  found  one  within  five  miles.  We  came 
across  a  book  store  and  laid  in  a  stock  of 
English  magazines.  With  two  oil  lamps  and 
many  blankets,  it  looks  as  though  most  of 
our  days  would  be  alike. 

We  have  a  three-cornered  bridge  game, 
the  two  lieutenants  and  myself,  that  lasts 
occasionally  until  midnight.     After  a  disas- 


130  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

trous  first  evening,   I   am  bidding  modestly 
and  collecting  consistently. 

I  don't  suppose  mail  will  ever  reach  us 
in  this  remote  corner  of  nowhere,  but  maybe 
they  will  hold  it  until  they  come  up  and  thaw 
us  out  in  the  spring. 


December  lo 
Dear  Family: 

Today  we  declared  a  holiday  for  bathing 
purposes.  The  French  lieutenant  promised 
to  steer  us  to  hot  water,  soap,  and  towels  if 
we  would  meet  him  early  this  morning. 
It  seemed  that  he  wanted  a  bath,  too.  I 
can't  say  that  I  wanted  one  so  terribly, 
but  I  was  willing  to  follow  along  just  for  the 
novelty  of  it. 

We  gathered,  the  three  of  us,  something 
after  nine,  each  with  a  little  bundle  of  clean 
underclothes  under  his  arm.  Lieutenant 
Moore  and  I  had  both  shaved  for  the  party 
and  had  caught  the  holiday  spirit.  It's 
funny  how  you  can  work  up  enthusiasm  for 
most  any  little  thing  over  here. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     13 1 

The  French  Heutenant  had  never  bathed 
in  this  particular  part  of  his  country,  but  he 
had  a  first-hand  rumor  that  such  a  thing 
was  possible  in  a  city  only  eight  kilometers 
away. 

We  found  the  city  all  right,  much  more  of 
a  city  than  we  have  been  within  striking 
distance  of  before.  It  even  has  little  trolley 
cars  and  some  civilian  population.  Surely 
it  should  have  a  bath-tub. 

The  first  civilian  in  the  big  open  square, 
we  held  up  with  a  chorus  of: 

Ou  sont  les  bains? 

He  nodded:  Oui,  oui,  and  pointed  down 
a  side-street. 

And  there  was  an  old  building,  announc- 
ing in  big  letters:  Bain.  We  drew  up  in 
front  with  joyous  confidence,  gathered  our 
clean  underwear  and  made  for  the  door. 

A  similar  sign,  posted  prominently,  had 
the  glaring  letters:  Ferme,  and  a  lot  more 
French  that  meant  the  baths  were  closed 
but  would  be  open  all  days  of  the  week 
except   Sunday  afternoon   and   Monday. 

A     passerby     suggested     that     there    was 


132  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

another  bain  on  another  side-street.  We 
found  it  slsoferme.  Just  why  France  should 
discourage  bathing  on  Sunday  afternoon  and 
Monday  I  can't  imagine,  but  accept  it  along 
with  the  meatless  Mondays  and  the  sweet- 
less  Tuesdays. 

Anyway,  the  clean  underclothes  are  back 
in  the  barracks'  bag  and  it  may  be  spring 
before  we  have  another  streak  of  sanitary 
enthusiasm. 

I  did  a  little  shopping  —  bought  an  auto- 
matic cigarette-rolling  machine  (which  is  now 
for  sale),  a  flash  light,  and  the  Chicago 
Tribune.  Buying  the  last  was  worth  while 
just  to  hear  the  newslady  try  to  pronounce 
Chicago. 

French  newspapers,  including  the  Parisian 
edition  of  the  Herald  and  the  Tribune,  are 
pas  bon.  They  cost  three  cents  and  have 
only  four  pages  week  days,  and  two  pages 
on  Mondays  and  holidays.  The  Clearwater 
Evening  Sun  could  come  to  Paris  and  put 
them  all  out  of  business.  I  showed  a  French- 
man a  copy  of  the  New  York  Tribune.  When 
he  saw  it  had  fourteen  pages  and  only  cost 


FROM  A   PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     133 

one  cent,  he  was  ready  to  pack  his  bag  and 
start  for  America,  where  you  can  live  cheap. 

The  weather  here  is  distinctly  wintry. 
The  sun  may  come  out  for  a  few  bright 
warm  moments  each  morning,  but  along 
about  noon  it  gets  cloudy  and  everything 
freezes  up  tight  as  a  drum. 

Last  night  an  American  lieutenant  from 
another  section  came  over  for  bridge.  We 
played  nine  rubbers  and  nearly  froze  our 
feet.  In  the  middle  of  the  game  a  message 
came  in  warning  of  a  Zeppelin  attack.  I 
went  out  and  looked.  The  air  was  full  of 
airplanes,  but  you  couldn't  see  a  thing. 
We  decided  we  were  just  as  safe  around 
the  bridge  table  as  anywhere. 

Six  more  fellows  have  gone  off  on  permis- 
sion to  Nice.  But  I'm  waiting  until  we 
get  into  such  a  terrible  hole  that  I'll  be  glad 
to  have  a  ten-day  absence. 

No  one  knows  why  we  are  here  now,  and 
no  one  seems  to  care  very  much.  We  can 
hear  the  big  guns  rumbling  and  we  do  a  lot 
of  imagining,  but  nothing  like  information 
helps  us  out. 


134  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

It    is    getting    so    near    Christmas    I  hate 

to  think  about  it.     Anyway  it  will  be  191 8 
soon,  and  maybe  the  war  will  be  over. 

Friday,  December  14 
Dear  Family: 

Still  I  am  keeping  one  eye  on  the  German 
avians  and  the  other  on  the  mail  truck. 
But  nothing  happens  to  disturb  the  daily 
routine  of  this  queer,  semi-soldier  life.  It 
seems  that  we  broke  all  connections  with 
the  outer  world  when  we  came  up  here. 

I  am  waiting  to  hear  about  all  the  Sea 
Ora  gossip,  the  Harbor  Oaks  scandals,  and 
the  golf  yarns.  Send  pictures  of  everything. 
The  last  American  newspaper  I  saw  was 
dated  October  25.  Still  I  don't  know  what 
New  York  thought   about   Hylan's  election. 

We  are  having  a  pretty  comfortable  time 
here  and  passing  the  days  rather  quickly. 
I  spend  most  of  the  day  trying  to  build  a 
fire  with  green  wood.  Generally,  I  get  it 
going  about  dinner  time.  While  we  are  at 
dinner  it  all  burns  out  and  we  play  bridge 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     135 

in  a  cold   room.     But  we  wrap  our  feet  in 
blankets,  light  two  lamps  and  three  candles, 


^./•uca*. 


smoke  like  everything,  and  have  a  hot  game 
till  midnight. 

Usually  we  'May  late."  There  is  nothing 
to  do  but  curse  if  you  do  get  up  early.  Our 
bomb-proof  shutters  also  protect  us  against 
any  possible  morning  sun  and  it  is  pretty 
easy  to  stay  under  the   covers   and   dream. 


136  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

It  was  nearly  noon  this  morning  before  I 
faced  the  shivers. 

Yesterday  we  were  wakened  by  a  knock 
and  a  casual  message  that  the  Chief  of 
Service  was  in  town  and  would  presently 
review  us.  Here  we  have  been  out  on  the 
field  for  three  months  without  even  so  much 
as  a  telephone  message  from  a  superior  office, 
and  inspection  catches  us  in  bed.  It  looked 
like  a  catastrophe. 

We  sent  word  up  to  the  barracks  to  pre- 
pare the  scenery  and  jumped  into  our  regu- 
lation uniforms  as  though  someone  had 
sounded    a    fire    drill. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  Lieutenant  met  the 
Colonel,  with  his  reviewing  party,  in  the 
open  square.  By  the  time  they  moved  down 
toward  our  camp  everything  was  ready. 
Two  mechanics  were  working  over  two  cars, 
three  men  were  chopping  wood,  one  fellow 
was  drawing  water  from  the  well,  and  the 
kitchen  just  humming  with  activity.  The 
yard  was  swept  clean  and  upstairs  the  bar- 
racks were  neat  as  a  pin. 

When    the    Colonel    made    his    entrance 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     137 

everyone  jumped  to  attention.  Even  our 
cook  straightened  up  and  executed  some- 
thing that  might  be  called  a  salute.  We  must 
have  looked  like  soldiers  to  the  Chief,  for 
he  was  all  smiles.  He  shook  hands  with 
some  of  the  men  and  left  before  he  had  a 
chance  to  find  out  different. 

And  we  promptly  took  off  our  military 
manners  and  became  human  beings  again. 
Maybe  the  early  morning  surprise  was  for 
the  best.  If  we  had  known  the  inspection 
was  coming  off,  it  would  have  taken  us  four 
days  to  get  ready  for  that  moment's  glance. 

It's  dinner  time  now  and  I'll  save  the  rest 
for  another  day.  We  are  having  corking 
good  meals  presided  over  by  a  French  chef. 
He  is  really  a  driver  for  the  French  Lieu- 
tenant, but  even  the  F.  L.  admitted  that 
he'd  be  more  use  in  front  of  a  kitchen  range 
than  behind  the  wheel  of  a  flivver. 

He  cooks  for  five  of  us:  the  two  lieuten- 
ants, the  Marshal  de  Loge,  the  interpreter 
and  myself.  We've  hired  a  kitchen  for  him 
and  gather  there  three  times  a  day  for  the 
feasts. 


138  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Otherwise       everything,       including       the 
weather,  is  rotten. 


Saturday,  December  75 
Dear  Family: 

This  is  another  of  those  red  letter  days  in 
the  army.  You  couldn't  find  a  downhearted 
soul  in  the  section,  from  the  cook  to  the 
lieutenant.  It  has  been  pay  day  and  mail 
day;  which,  if  you  reflect,  is  a  combination 
of  cheerfulness  which  never  occurs  in  civilian 
life. 

I  have  just  been  up  in  the  barracks  —  to 
sell  that  cigarette-making  machine  I  bought 
unwisely  the  other  day  —  and  it  was  as 
gay  a  scene  as  though  peace  had  been  de- 
clared. Every  corner  had  its  crap  game, 
and  two  highly  populated  poker  games  orna- 
mented the  center  of  the  room.  Joy  just 
bubbled  everywhere. 

I  had  more  than  my  share  of  letters  and 
am  as  happy  as  a  boy  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing.    There    were    six    of   your    letters,    the 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     139 

latest  November  14,  with  the  pictures,  Mrs. 
Watkins'  wristlets,  and  the  razor  blades. 

Clearwater  sounds  just  like  Paradise.  Do 
enjoy  it  and  have  as  gay  a  winter  as  you 
can,  without  being  lonesome.  I  may  be 
a  long  way  off,  but  my  part  in  the  war  is  so 
very  small  it  is  hardly  worth  mentioning. 
We  have  been  with  the  French  army  now 
for  three  months  and  all  but  ten  of  those 
days  I  have  been  as  safe  as  playing  golf  at 
Belleair,  and  that  seems  about  a  fair  pro- 
portion of  work  in  this  service. 

At  present  we  are  40  K.'s  from  the  firing 
line  and  we  may  be  here  for  weeks.  We  can 
hear  the  firing  plainly  enough,  catch  a 
glimpse  of  an  observation  balloon  off  in  the 
clouds,  and  follow  the  avions  for  a  while 
as  they  sail  off  for  patrol  duty.  An  oc- 
casional artillery  train  passing  leisurely,  the 
big,  lumbering  supply  trucks,  or  the  fast 
staff  cars  speeding  through  are  the  only 
evidences  of  war  in  this  sleepy  little  village. 

The  only  time  I  get  blue  is  when  I  think 
of  staying  off  here  for  an  indefinite  period, 
when  I  can't  see  any  end  to  the  awful  mess. 


140  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

But  there  must  be  an  end!  Germany  can't 
hold  out  forever,  and  the  Alhes  are  too 
jolly  well  sick  of  militarism  to  seek  terrible 
vengeance  when  she  is  ready  to  give  in. 
The  sufferings  of  an  invaded  country  are 
too  frightful  to  continue  for  a  moment  when 
once  a  conclusion  is  possible.  In  my  opti- 
mistic moments  —  and  they  come  frequently 
—  I  expect  to  be  home  in  the  summer. 
And  then  I'll  be  glad  I  came  and  saw  it  all. 
Back  in  America,  I  had  just  the  vaguest 
idea  of  warfare.  There  is  lots  I  have  missed, 
but  I've  seen  enough  to  fit  in  the  missing 
parts.  I'd  like  to  see  them  go  over  the 
top  from  some  nice  safe  club  window,  but 
I  can't  get  up  much  enthusiasm  for  taking 
part  in  any  such  barbaric  doings.  I  think 
I'll  be  happier  when  the  service  flag  is  pulled 
down  and  you  are  gathered  around  the 
mantelpiece  displaying  my  golf  cup  to  the 
Sunday  afternoon  visitors. 

The  Harbor  Oaks  pictures  are  corking, 
especially  the  one  of  Simpson's  dock.  In 
yesterday's  letter  I  wrote  asking  for  pictures. 
Our   house   certainly   looks   attractive.     I've 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     141 

shown  everyone  that  would  be  shown  just 
where  my  windows  were,  which  was  the 
grapefruit  tree,  and  where  I  would  be  this 
minute  if  I  were  there. 

I'm  glad  you  sent  the  Christmas  boxes 
via  the  French  address.  They  are  much 
surer  to  arrive  in  time.  Now  I  have  an 
official  address  to  give  you  which  I  '11  promise 
won't  be  changed  for  at  least  a  week.  It 
reads: 

ToRREY  Ford, 
S.  S.  U.  56 

Convois  Automobiles 
A.  E.  F.,  France. 

Par  B.  C.  M. 

That  gives  us  the  mailing  privileges  of  the 
Expeditionary  Forces  and  also  lets  the  French 
government  handle  our  mail  at  the  Bureau 
Centrale  Militaire.  If  I  was  a  lieutenant 
or  even  a  corporal  you  might  prefix  my 
name  with  the  rank  —  but  since  I'm  just 
a  private,  let's  forget  all  about  it. 

I  had  the  opportunity  to  advance  to  even 
such    an   exalted    position    as    Sergeant,    but 


142  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

preferred  to  remain  as  I  am  until  General 
Pershing  discovers  me  and  calls  me  to  his 
staff.  Being  driver,  companion,  and  nurse 
to  the  Lieutenant  is  quite  as  agreeable  a  place 
as  I  could  ask.  The  joys  of  being  a  non- 
com,  have  no  appeal  for  me. 

Ted  Wall  and  I  are  planning  to  take  our 
ten-day  permission  during  the  holidays. 
Probably  we  shall  start  off  for  Nice  a  week 
from  Monday.  It  sounds  good,  especially 
the  golf  course  there. 


Tuesday,  December  i8 
Dear  Family: 

This  is  the  day  I  have  been  dreading  ever 
since  the  very  first  hour  I  enlisted  in  the 
army.  And  now  it  has  come,  it  isn't  quite 
as  terrible  as  I  had  pictured  it. 

We  played  bridge  late  last  night.  When 
the  others  were  going  home,  something  after 
midnight,  they  called  to  us  from  the  gate 
to  come  out  and  look.  We  went  out.  It 
was  coming  down  in  small  flakes,  driven  by 
a  fierce  north  wind.     I  heard  it  howl  through 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     143 


^:&*c*<rS' 


the  night  and  I  didn't  care  if  morning  never 
came. 

I  postponed  opening  the  shutters  today 
until  it  wasn't  respectable  to  stay  in  bed 
any  longer,  and  then  I  looked  out.  There 
is  only  an  inch  or  so  of  snow  on  the  ground 
on  the  level,  but  it  is  winter  all  right. 


144  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

I  found  the  tonneau  of  my  car  full  of  the 
white  stuff,  the  radiator  and  mud  guards 
banked  with  it.  But  from  the  kitchen  I 
got  a  pail  of  boiling  water  to  fill  the  radiator 
and  had  her  going  in  five  minutes. 

We  drove  over  to  town  and  found  it  very- 
Christmassy,  all  the  store  windows  deco- 
rated with  Santa  Clauses  and  toys.  I  could 
almost  feel  that  I  was  in  America.  Had 
a  corking  luncheon  with  the  French  captain, 
was  barbered  and  shaved,  and  then  home 
to  build  a  fire  in  our  own  grate. 

There  was  more  mail.  If  it  could  only 
continue  this  way,  I'd  never  suspect  there 
was  an  ocean  between  us.  Four  letters 
from  home  as  late  as  November  23,  and 
Doc's  picture  of  the  service  flag.  I  do 
enjoy  getting  pictures  —  things  look  so  good 
at  home. 

Am  going  off  on  permission  maybe  the 
end  of  this  week. 

I'd  give  anything  to  see  the  Home  Guards 
in  action  on  Cleveland  Street.  I  live  right 
in  a  mass  of  soldiers  and  yet  have  to  see 
even   a   five-minute   drill.     All   they   require 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     145 

of  the  French  soldiers  is  to  do  their  own 
particular  job.  Back  in  the  French  train- 
ing schools,  where  the  younger  classes  are 
getting  ready,  there  is  lots  of  drilling,  of 
course. 

Am  now  wearing  big  wooden  shoes  —  a  la 
the  Dutch  —  provided  by  the  French  govern- 
ment. It's  great  to  carry  your  own  flooring 
when  the  ground  is  so  cold. 


Grand  Hotel,  Paris 

December  26 
Dear  Family: 

I  AM  tickled  to  pieces  to  be  writing  you 
from  a  regular  place,  so  you  can  glance  at 
the  top  and  know  just  where  I  was  for  the 
moment.  Yesterday,  Christmas  Day,  our 
leaves  came  through  and  we  started  joyously 
forth.  With  the  Lieutenant,  Teddy  Wall 
and  I  drove  to  Troyes,  where  we  had  a 
glorious  Christmas  dinner.  It  wasn't  much 
like  other  Christmases,  but  we  felt  very 
lucky  under  the  circumstances.  Teddy  and 
I  took  the  four  o'clock  train  for  Paris  and 


146  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

got  here  in  time  for  another  Christmas 
dinner  at  Maxim's.  Lieutenant  Moore  felt 
pretty  badly  that  he  couldn't  come,  too, 
but  being  an  officer  has  some  drawbacks. 

We  came  here  to  the  Grand  Hotel,  char- 
tered a  big  room  and  bath,  and  feel  like 
kings.  Most  of  today  we  have  spent  scurry- 
ing around  from  one  military  office  to 
another,  getting  our  permissions  viseed,  and 
our  transportation. 

We  had  planned  on  Nice,  but  the  military 
travel  in  that  direction  is  so  heavy  that  we 
had  to  make  another  choice.  We  picked 
Biarritz,  down  close  to  Spain  on  the  Bay 
of  Biscay,  because  everyone  told  us  the 
golf  there  was  the  best.  We  leave  tonight 
at  8.25  —  reservations  all  made  —  and  ex- 
pect to  stay  on  for  ten  days  if  we  like  it. 

It  certainly  is  swell  to  forget  you  are 
a  soldier  for  a  few  minutes  and  chase  off 
for  a  good  time.  If  Clearwater  were  any- 
where on  this  side  of  the  ocean,  I'd  be  start- 
ing for  there  tonight. 

Back  at  camp  we  made  quite  a  little  of 
Christmas    in    spite    of   the    blooming   war. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     147 

We  had  a  "company"  Christmas  eve  dinner 
and  a  bridge  game  that  lasted  until  2  a.m. 
Only  a  few  of  the  Christmas  packages  had 
come  through,  and  I  was  lucky  to  get  just 
one  of  mine.  It  was  No.  2  that  Hazel  sent. 
It  came  on  Christmas  eve  and  I  had  great 
fun  opening  it.  Of  course,  I  missed  the 
Christmas  Day  mail,  but  it  will  all  be  there 
for  me  when  I  get  back  to  the  section.  Joe 
Lincoln  sent  me  two  boxes  of  Havana  cigars 
that    came    two    days    before    Christmas. 

The  military  post  offices  have  been  so 
swamped  with  the  package  mail  that  every- 
thing has  been  held  up.  I  went  into  the 
B.  C.  M.  today  and  saw  stacks  of  it  ready 
to  go  out  to  the  front. 

It  has  been  a  week  since  I've  written 
but  I've  been  on  the  jump  every  minute. 
A  week  ago  today  we  were  playing  bridge 
about  3.30  in  the  afternoon  when  a  message 
came  for  us  to  move  immediately.  It  was 
dark  before  we  could  get  packed  up,  but  we 
drove  fifty  miles  after  dark  with  every 
car  checking  in  at  the  finish.  We  picked 
up    a    division    back    in    the    interior,    some 


148  CHEER-UP   LETTERS 

seventy  miles  back  of  the  lines  and  have 
promise  of  restez-ld-'mg  there  for  considerable 
time. 

No  time  now  for  more   than  this.     Nous 
partirons  tout  de  suite! 


December  28 
Hotel  Victoria,  Biarritz,  France 
Dear  Family: 

I'm  nearer  America  today  than  for  many 
months,  and  farther  away  from  being  a 
soldier,  too.  The  Atlantic  Ocean  is  pound- 
ing in  right  out  in  front  of  my  window  and 
it  feels  kind  of  homelike. 

If  you  could  see  where  we  are  and  how 
we  are  fixed,  you'd  certainly  take  back  all 
your  pities  for  the  boys  "over  there." 

Biarritz  is  wonderful!  It  is  an  all-the- 
year-around  resort,  though  this  is  the  dull 
season.  We  struck  it  in  the  midst  of  a 
wintry  storm  yesterday  noon,  the  surf  break- 
ing high  over  the  cliffs,  and  off  in  the 
distance,  Spain,  with  the  snow-peaked  Pyr- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     149 

enees  rising  one  above  the  other.  There  is 
some  snow  here  and  the  temperature  down 
nearly  to  freezing,  but  they  tell  us  it  will  be 
warmer  in  a  couple  of  days. 

On  the  train  yesterday  we  made  friends 
with  a  young  French  soldier,  who  was  con- 
valescing from  some  bad  wounds.  He  was 
coming  to  Biarritz,  too.  He  took  us  under 
his  wing  to  find  a  place  for  us.  There  are 
so  many  hotels  here,  wonderful  big  ones, 
that  we  never  could  have  found  the  right 
one,  with  proper  prices.  He  brought  us 
here  to  the  Victoria,  found  an  enormous 
room,  with  three  windows  on  the  ocean. 
You  couldn't  find  as  nice  a  hotel  in  America 
• — such  efficient,  polite  servants,  from  the 
woman  who  comes  in  at  huit  heures  to  make 
a  fire,  to  the  English  door  man  who  has 
put  his  French  at  our  disposal.  Our  room 
is  luxurious  —  so  much  so  that  we  can't 
feel  at  home  after  the  shacks  and  barns 
we've  been  sleeping  in.  Breakfast  —  the 
usual  Continental  affair  —  is  served  in  the 
room.  The  other  two  meals  are  treats.  All 
this  we  get   for  eighteen   francs   apiece   per 


I50  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

day,  which  means  something  around  twenty- 
two  dollars  a  week. 

Here  I  think  we  can  spend  most  of  our  ten 
days'  leave  and  enjoy  every  minute.  We 
are  quite  away  from  all  military  life.  It 
isn't  gay  here  now,  but  there  are  enough 
people  not  to  make  us  feel  lonesome. 

This  afternoon  we  walked  out  to  the  Golf 
Club.  An  Englishman,  the  secretary,  was 
very  cordial.  He  was  all  huddled  up  in  a 
corner  and  said  he  had  never  seen  such 
cold  weather  here.  The  course  is  in  con- 
dition and  as  soon  as  the  snow  thaws  off  we 
are  to  play. 

There  are  beautiful  homes,  castles,  and 
hotels  all  about.  Sand  beaches  and  cliffs. 
It  is  a  rendezvous  for  Spanish  royalty, 
also  for  the  English  and  French  in  the  proper 
season. 

How  you  would  enjoy  it  all!  Our  soldier 
friend  is  staying  here,  too,  and  we  see  much 
of  him.  He  dresses  so  perfectly  and  is  so 
effeminate,  I  can't  Imagine  his  ever  being 
up  here  in  the  infantry.  But  he  has  a 
great  big  wound  to  prove  it  and  decorations 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     15 1 

for  bravery.  He  is  only  twenty-one  and  has 
been  in  for  two  years  and  a  half. 

I'll  send  some  postals  of  the  place  — 
but  you'd  have  to  be  here  to  know  how 
wonderful  it  is. 

They  are  waiting  for  me  to  go  down  town 
now  —  for  coffee  and  cordial  in  one  of  the 
cafes. 


Biarritz,  Sunday,  December  jo 
Dear  Family: 

Listen  to  my  Sunday  and  see  if  you 
think,  after  all,  that  war  is  as  bad  as  Sher- 
man suggested. 

Along  about  9.15  I  woke  up,  Teddy  still 
snoring  lightly  in  the  next  bed.  By  my 
elbow  there  is  a  bell.  1  push  it  gently  and 
duck  down  under  the   covers  again. 

Tout  de  suite,  Dixon,  the  gray-haired 
maid,  steals  into  the  room.  She  passes  over 
to  the  windows,  opens  the  shutters,  pulls 
back  the  portieres,  and  floods  our  pink 
chamber  with  stage  sunshine. 

Teddy  wakes  up  with  a  start  and  wants 


IS2  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  know  "what 'ell"  just  as  Dixon  asks 
Comment  desirez-vous,  M'sieu?  As  Teddy 
wears  a  sleeveless  gray  sweater  over  his 
sleeveless  undershirt  —  his  only  pajamas 
being  deep  down  in  his  barracks  bag  back 
in  camp  —  he  dives  back  under  the  sheets 
quite  embarrassed,  while  I  order  breakfast. 

Quickly  comes  in  the  valet,  with  our  boots 
and  puttees,  all  highly  polished.  After  Bon 
jour-mg  us  and  lighting  our  cigarettes,  he 
makes  a  crackling  fire  in  the  open  fireplace. 
Breakfast  arrives  and  is  placed  between 
our  beds. 

By  10.15  I  suggest  that  we  jump  into  our 
clothes  and  go  down  to  the  11  o'clock  service 
in  the  English  church.  Teddy  can't  under- 
stand my  religious  streak  at  all,  and  I  rather 
hesitate  to  tell  him  that  by  going  we  may 
establish  ourselves  socially  in  Biarritz  as 
being  the  only  American  soldiers  that  ever 
went  to  church. 

Anyway,  we  go.  The  church  is  beastly 
cold  and  there  aren't  many  people  there. 
The  rector  smokes  when  he  chants  the 
psalm  and  we  all  smoke  when  we  mumble 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     153 

the  response.  It  is  a 
pleasure  to  hear  Eng- 
lish, though. 

We  fish  around  in 
our  pockets  for  a  franc 
when  the  offertory  be-- 
gins.  We  make  it  two 
apiece  when  we  see  the 
dignified  old  English- 
man in  the  fur  coat 
approach  with  his  pan. 

He  stops,  curiously, 
by  us,  and  we  recog- 
nize him  as  our  friend, 
Mr.  Corry,  secretary  of 
the   golf  club.     He   is 

asking  us  to  come  to  the  club  for  tea  at  four. 
We  mumble  an  acceptance  and  go  on  with 
the  offertory  hymn.  Teddy  begins  to  sus- 
pect my  religious  streak  but  marvels  at  my 
wisdom. 

Church  is  over  quickly,  the  rector  apolo- 
gizing for  the  cold  and  promising  heat  for 
next  Sunday.  Coming  out,  one  or  two 
people   stop   us  —  but  we've  one   invitation 


154  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

and  hurry  on.  We  promenade  along  the 
sea  until  luncheon  time.  It's  clear  and  cold, 
but  the  sea  looks  very  homelike. 

We  have  luncheon  with  Roger  Bernard, 
our  French  soldier  friend,  who  has  lately 
proved  to  be  the  son  of  a  Count.  He  has 
been  to  church,  too,  for  he's  a  Catholic. 

From  two  to  four  we  promenade  again. 
There  are  many  people  out,  for  the  sun  is 
warmer.  Several  English  people  speak  to 
us  kindly.  Two  little  French  girls  snap 
a  camera  as  we  pass. 

Suddenly,  a  sharp  explosion  floats  in  from 
the  sea.  Everyone  gets  excited.  They 
gather  in  little  groups  and  point  off  to  where 
a  patrol  boat  has  exploded  a  floating  mine. 
An  airplane  buzzes  off  from  shore  to  see 
what's  happening.  Even  way  off  here,  it 
seems,  we  are  not  quite  away  from  the 
war. 

Then  we  go  back  to  the  room  and  prepare 
for  our  tea.  That  isn't  much  of  a  cere- 
mony, as  we  have  only  our  uniforms  to  wear. 
But  we  shave  and  wash  and  try  to  look 
acceptable. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING      155 

On  the  way  up  the  hill  Teddy  confesses 
that  he  hates  teas.  I,  too,  and  we  decide 
to  get  it  over  with  quickly. 

Mr.  Corry,  in  his  golfing  rig,  meets  us  at  the 
door,  and  carries  us  in  in  a  whirl  of  good 
nature.  In  the  cafe  we  approach  a  large 
table  covered  with  sweets.  Mrs.  Corry,  a 
sweet-tempered  old  lady,  presides.  She  does 
some  casual  introducing  and  waves  us  to 
seats  about  the  table. 

There  is  a  gushy  lady  who  proclaims 
proudly  that  she  hails  from  Kentucky;  an 
English  captain  who  proves  himself  a  lord 
in  civilian  life;  also,  a  Mrs.  Brooks  —  Eng- 
lish —  her  charming  daughter,  Marjorie,  and 
several  little  Brooks. 

There  is  nothing  formal  about  the  affair. 
We  all  pitch  into  the  sweets  and  talk  with 
almost  anyone.  I  am  getting  on  famously 
with  the  Kentucky  lady.  Her  friend's  son 
was  in  my  class  at  Harvard.  Will  I  take 
luncheon  with  her  on  Wednesday?  No! 
Well,  then,  tea  on  Monday  afternoon. 

There  is  a  sudden  lull  in  the  conversation 
on  our  side  of  the  board   and  we  hear  the 


156  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Captain  telling  what  a  fine  fellow  is  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  Instantly,  we  all  subside 
and  listen.  The  Captain  realizes  he  has 
the  floor  and  raises  his  voice  a  bit.  It  goes 
some  thing  like  this: 

"He  is  a  fine  fellow,  the  Prince,  now 
that  he's  on  his  own.  I've  found  him 
often  down  in  my  harness  early  morning.'* 

The  Kentucky  lady  applauds  and  opines 
that  the  Prince  has  **such  a  fine  face." 

The  Captain  continues:  '*I  remember  once 
when  some  General  over  in  the  Somme 
came  into  headquarters  looking  for  another 
General.  He'd  been  jolly  well  looking  for 
him  all  day  and  couldn't  find  him.  The 
Baron  and  I  were  just  coming  in  from  a 
game  of  polo  out  in  the  mud  behind  the 
lines.  The  Baron's  leather  coat  was  thrown 
open  and  he  perspired  freely. 

*'The  General  asked  us  if  we  had  seen 
the  General.  Mind  you,  we'd  been  out 
playing  polo  and  of  course  we  hadn't  seen 
the  General.  But  the  General  was  so  put 
out  he  did  a  frightful  blow.  When  he's 
through  cursing,  he  passed  on  out  you  know. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     157 

"And  right  there,  the  Prince  stepped  out 
from  behind  a  screen!     He'd  heard  it  all! 

"'What  a  damned  old  rotter'  he  said, — 
and  then  let  out  a  string  of  oaths  that  fairly 
outdid  the  General." 

Of  course,  we  all  laughed  heartily.  The 
Kentucky  lady  thought  the  Prince  must  be 
a  corker  to  outcurse  the  General. 

Then  the  talk  drifted  to  the  Queen  of 
Spain,  to  what  Duke  So-and-So  said  about 
nothing. 

I  didn't  know  whether  to  laugh,  cry,  or 
run  away.  But  we  held  tight  and  heard 
the  Kentuckian  tell  how  "our  greatest 
American,  Robert  E.  Lee,"  had  been  wild  in 
his  youth. 

When  we  adjourned  to  the  living  room 
fire  I  cornered  Marjorie  and  buzzed  her 
busily.  Such  a  nice  English  family  she  be- 
longs to!  They've  lived  in  Mexico  for  years 
and  have  been  here  for  only  thirteen  months. 
She's  to  be  at  the  tea  tomorrow,  too.  We 
walked  home  with  the  Brooks's,  all  of  them. 
Mrs.  Brooks  asks  us  for  tea  next  Saturday 
—  if  our  money  holds  out  that  long. 


158  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Ted  and  I  begin  dinner  alone  and  are  soon 
joined  by  Roger.  He  has  found  a  Countess 
down  town  and  has  a  rendezvous  for  the 
three  of  us  at  the  Royalty  Cafe  after  dinner. 
She  becomes  very  charming  in  spite  of  my 
bad  French. 

"There  is  so  much  bad  French  in  Biar- 
ritz in  season,"  she  says. 

I  want  her  to  dance  with  me,  but  she  has 
"given  over  dancing  for  the  war."  We 
have  coffee  and  cordial  and  listen  to  the 
music.  And  about  ten  o'clock  we  drift  back 
to  the  hotel  "and  so  to  bed." 


Paris,  January  7,  igi8 
Dear  Family: 

I  feel  like  a  regular  soldier  today,  for 
here  I  am  back  in  Paris  at  a  hotel,  run  by 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  It  is  a  rather  neat  affair, 
and  most  thickly  populated  with  soldiers 
and  sailors.  We  came  here  both  for  econ- 
omy and  the  experience. 

After  a  strenuous  night  in  a  second-class 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     159 

compartment  coming  up  from  Biarritz,  we 
arrived  about  9  this  morning  in  a  drench- 
ing rain.  The  French  certainly  stand  a 
great  many  discomforts  in  their  travelHng. 
Their  diners  have  ours  beat  a  mile,  but 
right  there  the  superiority  stops. 

We  weren't  crowded  in  our  compartment. 
There  were  two  vacant  seats.  I  used  them 
both,  one  for  my  head,  one  for  my  feet, 
and  the  rest  of  me  in  my  own  seat.  The 
other  passengers  contented  themselves  with 
one  seat.  They  all  snored  industriously 
while  I  kept  guard  until  morning  came. 
Teddy  also  writhed  in  his  seat  and  occa- 
sionally we  broke  the  long  hours  by  going 
out  for  a  smoke. 

Our  last  few  days  at  Biarritz  were  de- 
lightful. It  finally  warmed  up,  and  the 
day  we  left  the  golf  greens  had  shown  above 
the  snow  and  were  about  ready  for  play. 
Another  permission  and  we  will  try  them 
out. 

We  had  tea  again  with  the  Corry's  at 
the  country  club.  Mrs.  Corry  took  our 
pictures   and   promised   to  forward   them   to 


i6o  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

America.  Saturday  was  the  real  treat.  We 
had  tea  with  the  Brooks.  They  are  such 
a  poHte,  well-bred  family,  from  the  y-year- 
old  youngster  to  the  mother.  They  had 
invited   the  junior  members  of  most  of  the 


English  families  in  the  neighborhood,  about 
20  in  all.  We  played  games,  many  games 
—  from  charades  to  riding  in  an  airplane. 
I  enjoyed  it  all  immensely.  Sunday  we 
had  a  final  tea  with  the  Kentucky  lady, 
and  made  a  break  for  our  hotel. 

When  we  passed  down  the  stairs  on  our 
way  out,  the  servants  were  lined  up  just 
as  I  have  seen  in  musical  comedies.  First 
there    was    the    chamber    maid,    two    valets, 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     l6l 

two  waiters,  the  concierge  and  the  elevator 
boy.  We  fed  them  and  got  away  with 
our    lives. 

Tonight  we've  been  asked  to  dinner  with 
a  nice  man  who  came  up  from  Biarritz  on 
the  same  train.  We  had  played  cards  with 
him  at  the  Victoria.     Now  for  the  cinema. 


Paris,  January  75 
Dear  Family: 

I'm  not  back  at  camp  yet.  This  time 
I'm  in  a  hospital  —  just  to  add  to  my  list 
of  experiences,  a  war  hospital.  Off  on  per- 
mission, I  caught  a  peach  of  a  cold  and 
Lieutenant  Moore  thought  I  hadn't  better 
come  back  into  service  until  I  had  entirely 
shaken  it. 

Here  I've  been  for  nearly  a  week,  in  and 
out  of  bed,  and  really  not  sick  at  all.  It's 
been  rather  luxurious,  for  I've  had  no  fever 
and  been  on  the  full,  regular  diet.  It  is 
an  American  hospital,  with  cheerful  Ameri- 
can Red  Cross  nurses,  American  doctors 
and    all    American    patients.     Haven't    seen 


1 62  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

so  many  Americans  since  I  left  home.  Prob- 
ably they  won't  let  me  stay  here  more  than 
a  couple  of  days  longer  because  my  cold  has 
quite  disappeared  and  I  am  quite  fit  again. 

Isn't  it  funny  that  all  the  while  out  there 
in  service  I  was  always  so  well  —  and  then 
I  have  a  furlough,  have  some  of  the  comforts 
of  home  life  and  immediately  catch  cold. 
About  the  only  reason  I  want  to  get  back 
is  to  find  the  mail.  Since  Christmas,  I 
haven't  had  a  line,  of  course,  and  then  there 
are  my  Christmas  boxes  to  get  back  to. 
By  the  way  these  peace  moves  are  flying 
around,  I'll  have  to  hurry  back  to  see  any 
of  the  war  at  all. 

Life  in  the  hospital  is  just  as  gloriously 
lazy  as  usual.  If  they  are  all  like  this  one, 
the  boys  who  get  laid  up  will  see  the  best 
part  of  France.  There  are  three  other  boys 
in  my  room  —  from  Brooklyn,  Toledo  and 
East  Aurora.  The  Roycrofter  has  been 
here  two  months  with  a  bad  knee.  He 
was  wounded  in  October,  while  serving  his 
country  bravely  in  a  football  game  some- 
where behind  the  range  of  the  big  guns. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     163 

There  is  a  victrola  outside  the  door  now, 
playing  some  good  American  airs  that  I 
haven't  heard  for  many  months.  Smok- 
ing is  allowed,  even  encouraged,  the  nurses 
coming  round  with  cigarettes  often  enough. 

I  forgot  to  write  that  the  copy  of  Every 
Weeky  with  "Torchy's"  visit  to  Allentown 
reached  camp  just  before  I  left.  It  passed 
around  the  section  and  all  the  boys  were 
greatly  pleased.  I  am  trying  to  get  some- 
thing written  but  am  having  considerable 
difficulty  in  settling  down  to  it. 

I  have  only  run  into  a  couple  of  fellows 
I  knew.  It's  funny,  with  so  many  that 
must  be  over  here.  There  is  a  nurse  here 
from  Tampa,  by  the  name  of  Miss  Gunby. 
She  knows  Dale  Mayberry  and  said  he 
was  over  here  somewhere.  A  big  strap- 
ping fellow  from  Arcadia  came  in  to  swap 
Cracker  gossip  yesterday.  He  had  about 
the  same  longing  for  Florida  sunshine  that 
I   have. 

It's  nice  to  be  missing  these  worst  weeks 
of  the  winter.  The  past  day  or  two  it  has 
softened  a  bit  and  I  expect  there  won't  be 


l64  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

much  more  severe  weather.  They  are  not 
supposed  to  have  winters  over  here,  accord- 
ing to  the  natives. 

If  we  find  this  old  war  is  going  to  last 
forever,  you  will  all  have  to  get  passports 
some  way  or  other  and  come  over  and  res- 
tez-ld  in  Biarritz.  I  looked  over  a  dozen 
chateaux  around  the  golf  links  and  on  the 
shore.  There  are  any  number  of  attrac- 
tive places  for  rent.  I  found  one  corker 
for  ^875  per  year,  completely  furnished, 
with  linen  and  silver.  Another  for  ^1500 
was  a  regular  palace,  most  wonderfully 
furnished.  Anyway,  after  the  war,  you 
will  have  to  spend  a  season  there.  You 
can  get  three  servants  for  the  price  of  one 
in  America.  I  was  crazy  about  the  whole 
place  and  I  know  you  would  all  be. 

The  rest  of  France  I've  seen,  I  never 
want  to  see  again,  not  even  their  wonderful 
Paris.  It's  too  foreign.  If  this  war  does 
nothing  else,  it  is  teaching  some  million 
men  to  love  the  little  old  U.  S.  A.  And 
I'm  one  of  the  million,  you  bet. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     165 


Paris,  January  23 
Dear  Family: 

I  don't  suppose  one  should  complain  at 
spending  the  worst  of  a  war  winter  in  the 
shelter  of  a  nice,  warmly-heated  hospital 
—  but  I  can't  quite  figure  it.  For  the 
past  10  days  I've  been  as  fit  as  a  fiddle, 
but  still  no  one  says  anything  about  send- 
ing me  away  —  and  I  never  murmur  a 
word.  I  guess  they  want  to  make  pretty 
darned  sure  a  man  is  hardened  again  before 
they  let  him  go  back  into  it.  And,  besides, 
in  the  American  military  hospitals  they 
have  a  tremendous  force  of  doctors  and 
nurses  with  only  a  scattering  of  patients. 

Our  days  are  mostly  the  same  —  checkers 
and  food.  Occasionally,  one  of  these  Red 
Cross  ladies,  with  more  charity  than  sense, 
pays  us  a  visit.  Today  one  came  with  an 
apple  for  each  of  us,  accompanied  with  a 
glowing  tale  of  how  she  was  sacrificing 
everything  to  win  the  war.  Already,  she 
has   given   her   all  —  her   husband  —  who   is 


l66  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

holding  down  a  desk  as  major  in  the  fright- 
fully dangerous  Quartermaster's  Corps. 
And  if  worse  comes  to  worst,  she  will  even 
move   to   a   less   expensive   hotel.     Most   of 


these  Frenchized  Americans,  who  have  been 
living  over  here  a  dozen  years,  are  pas  hon. 

I've  been  revelling  in  some  New  York 
Tribunes  a  fellow  brought  up  from  Bren- 
tano's  —  dating  Dec.  25  and  26.  There 
seems  to  be  a  grand  debate  as  to  who  is  to 
fill    Heywood    Broun's    shoes.     The    person 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING     167 

who  signs  "S.  S."  is  none  other  than  Salita 
Solano,  my  predecessor  on  the  Traveler. 
Perhaps  I  won't  be  glad  to  get  back  and  into 
the  game. 

Gee,  I  am  anxious  to  get  my  mail!  But 
I'll  be  leaving  here  too  soon  to  have  it  sent 
on. 


Paris,  January  2g 
Dear  Family: 

Still  living  in  luxury  and  growing  lazy 
by  the  day.  I  get  out  every  day  from  12 
to  5  —  which  makes  it  rather  pleasant  being 
right  here  in  Paris.  Today  I  sent  you  a 
cable.  They  say  nothing  about  discharg- 
ing me  from  the  hospital,  so  I  keep  mum 
and  enjoy  myself.  They  let  the  fellows 
go  who  are  stationed  here  in  Paris,  but  men 
bound  for  the  front  they  hold  forever. 

It's  a  jolly  crowd  here,  and  we  pass 
the  time  congenially.  I  discovered  a  fellow 
serving  in  the   French   aviation  who  played 


l68  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

in  the  Florida  State  Golf  Championship  the 
year  it  was  held  in  Jacksonville. 

Our  prize  acquisition  is  "Red"  Harris, 
the  boy  trumpeter.  He's  19  years  old  and 
has  seen  five  years  of  service  in  the  marine 
corps.  Sometimes  he  approaches  "Torchy" 
in  red-head  philosophy.  His  present  job 
is  to  blow  "taps"  at  all  the  American  mili- 
tary funerals. 

He  blew  taps  when  his  ship  left  Phila- 
delphia, and  spent  5  days  in  the  brig  for 
it.  Arriving  in  France,  he  met  a  little 
French  girl  and  forgot  all  about  drills  and 
the  war.  Another  30  days  in  the  brig. 
Encore  when  he  arrived  in  Paris.  Alto- 
gether he  has  3 1  court  martials  on  his  serv- 
ice record  and  can  look  back  on  5  years, 
mostly  spent  in  the  brig.  But  "Red" 
smiles  and  is  indispensable  to  his  company. 

He'd  been  in  bed  some  six  days  when  an 
orderly  came  in  to  report  that  Harris  was 
wanted  in  the  adjutant's  office. 

"Somebody's  dead,"  says  "Red,"  jump- 
ing up  and  grabbing  his  clothes. 

Somebody    was,    too,    and    there    wasn't 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     169 

anyone  but  "Red"  who  could  blow  taps 
well  enough  to  bury  him.  He  was  back 
in  bed  that  evening,  observing,  as  usual: 

"You  gotter  use  your  head  in  this  outfit." 

He'd  developed  a  limp  somewhere  be- 
tween bed  and  the  funeral  and  had  ridden 
to  the  cemetery  in  the  Major's  twin-six. 

Then  we  have  many  visits  from  Red 
Cross  and  Y.  M.  C.  A.  adherents.  Sun- 
day they  came  in  flocks,  bearing  roses  and 
candy.  I  got  an  extra  rose  because  I  came 
from  N.  J.  —  and  an  extra  piece  of  candy 
from  a  fat  girl  because  she  came  from  Dal- 
ton,  Mass.  Then  there  was  —  "My  name's 
Brown,  from  Ohio,"  who  assured  me  Times 
Square  was  still  doing  business. 

But  we  enjoy  their  visits,  even  if  they 
aren't  quite  sure  of  their  grounds  in  ad- 
ministering to  the  sick. 

How  I  am  looking  forward  to  that  batch 
of  mail  back  at  camp! 


I70  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


Paris,  February  y 
Dear  Family: 

At  last  I've  had  word  of  you  and  per- 
haps it  wasn't  "a  grand  and  gloryus  feehn'." 
One  of  the  fellows  came  in  from  the  section 
and  brought  me  a  stack  of  50  letters.  From 
you,  there  were  some  as  late  as  Jan.  i.  It 
was  just  like  discovering  you  had  a  family 
again  after  two  months  on  a  desert  island. 
Also  heard  the  packages  are  stacked  up 
waiting  for  me.  Perhaps  I  won't  have 
a  grand  Christmas  party.  For  me,  I've 
been  operated  on,  a  minor  operation,  not 
the  least  bit  serious.  They  discovered  I 
needed  to  have  it  done  while  I  was  here 
in  the  hospital  —  and  as  I  would  have 
to  be  operated  on  sometime  later  in  civilian 
life,  I  told  them  to  go  to  it.  Dr.  Blake, 
a  famous  New  York  physician,  performed 
the  operation  and  everything  has  been  go- 
ing finely  since. 

I  never  knew  I  had  "it"  until  being 
examined   for   the   army,   when   I   traced   it 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     171 

back  to  a  blow  I  got  horseback  riding  last 
spring.  They  weren't  going  to  accept  me 
until  I  promised  to  have  an  operation  after 
getting  to  Allentown.  But  nothing  was 
said  there  and  I  let  it  go  on.  I  am  glad  to 
have  it  over  with.  The  ether  was  disagree- 
able but  the  pain  amounted  to  nothing. 
They  will  give  me  two  or  three  weeks  to 
rest  before  I  go  back  to  join  the  boys. 

The  Lieutenant  writes  that  they  are  in 
a  sector  where  they  have  "war  de  luxe" 
■ —  fine  quarters,  beautiful  roads,  and  no 
shooting.  He  is  coming  in  on  leave  soon 
and  we  may  go  off  somewhere  for  a  few 
days.  I  can't  be  sorry  to  be  missing  it 
until  the  real  spring  sets  in.  I'd  write 
oftener  but  there  is  so  little  to  be  said  from 
the  inside  of  a  hospital.  We  have  a  great 
bunch  of  checker-playing  invalids  here. 
The  days  pass  quickly  and  each  one  brings 
peace  nearer  —  no  matter  how  dark  the 
papers  may  make  things  look. 


172  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Paris,  February  jj 
Dear  Family: 

My  letters  written  here  from  the  hospital 
must  be  infrequent  and  brief,  because  there 
isn't  one  thing  to  write  about  except  when 
a  new  patient  enters  our  Httle  room. 

This  time  it  is  a  45-year-old  Methodist 
minister  from  Rockland,  Maine.  He  is 
taking  a  slight  furlough  from  his  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
services  while  he  has  something  or  other  cut 
out.  Rather  a  change  from  "Red"  Harris. 
But  we  have  a  good  time  hooting  his  ideas 
on  low-necks,  dancing,  cards  and  rum.  His 
troubles  are  more  painful  than  the  rest 
of  ours  are.  We  even  curse  for  him  when 
the  best  he  can  get  out  is  "Cracky!" 

By  this  time  you'll  think  I'm  a  bed-ridden 
invalid,  and  that  I  surely  must  be  stretch- 
ing the  truth  when  I  tell  you  my  sickness 
is  neither  dreadful  nor  serious.  But  the 
doctor  said  it  would  be  two  or  three  weeks 
before  he  would  think  of  sending  me  back 
into  service.  I  am  still  on  my  back  but 
contented    to   let    things    run    along   slowly. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 73 

We  certainly  do  get  constant  and  effi- 
cient care. 

The  doctors,  a  whole  slew  of  them,  while 
not  so  conversational  as  in  civilian  life, 
are  more  attentive  and  careful  than  if  they 
were  working  for  money.  For  if  they  are 
captains,  they  are  eager  to  be  majors,  and 
the  majors  want  to  be  colonels  and  so  on 
up   the   line. 

We  have  a  bunch  of  new  nurses  just  in 
from  the  States.  They  go  in  for  war  nurs- 
ing with  as  much  enthusiasm  as  though  we 
were  all  just  out  of  the  trenches.  Somehow 
people  just  over  and  those  at  home  seem 
to  think  that  any  place  in  France  is  the 
front. 

I  read  Wilson's  reply  to  the  Boche  in 
today's  paper,  and  have  a  sneaking  sus- 
picion he  will  pull  off  a  diplomatic  victory 
some  of  these  days  if  the  armies  don't  make 
more  speed  in  downing  the  Hun. 

I  wish  I  could  remember  more  of  Mr. 
Fairley's  sermons.  It  would  come  in  handy 
in  my  daily  combats  with  the  parson. 


174  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 


Paris,  February  iq 
Dear  Family: 

Well,  I  guess  I'm  pretty  near  ready  to 
go  back  to  war.  My  incision  is  all  healed, 
the  dressings  are  ofif,  and  they  let  me  get 
up  today.  I  walked  the  length  of  the  hall 
in  a  sort  of  drunken  reel.  Whether  I  will 
stay  here  in  the  hospital  until  I  get  all  my 
strength  back  or  go  somewhere  to  conva- 
lesce hasn't  been  decided  yet. 

Lieutenant  Moor  surprised  me  by  blow- 
ing into  the  room  yesterday.  He  is  in  on 
a  lo-day  permission  and  said  one  of  his 
chief  jobs  is  to  get  me  back  on  my  feet  to 
go  home  with  him.  Probably  I  will  be 
ready  by  then  and  he  will  make  things  easy 
for  me  at  camp.  He  says  he  has  a  fine 
bedroom  to  share  with  me  and  that  we 
have  a  new  French  chef  who  is  a  corker. 
I  certainly  was  glad  to  see  him  again.  To- 
day he  is  going  to  bring  me  out  a  pack  of 
mail.  Also  there  are  20  packages  back  at 
camp   for  me.     Won't   I   have   a  grand   and 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 75 

glorious  Christmas  morning  when  I  get 
back! 

I  guess  you  can  get  used  to  war  the  same 
as  anything  else,  unless  you  have  to  go  into 
the  trenches  and  get  shot. 

I  read  about  the  January  Belleair  tour- 
nament in  the  New  York  Tribune  and  had 
a  few  qualms  of  homesickness.  Didn't 
notice  Pop's  name  among  the  semi-finalists 
but  concluded  he'd  been  too  busy  to  compete. 

I  will  honestly  hate  to  leave  this  hospital. 
Everything  has  been  so  cheerful  and  pleas- 
ant and  we  have  all  had  a  bang-up  time. 
It's  a  whole  floor  of  surgical  cases,  so  there 
is  no  one  really  sick  —  a  little  pain  here  and 
there  but  no  one  with  raging  fevers.  We 
can  smoke,  sing  and  make  all  the  noise 
we  like. 

I  am  anxious  to  get  my  mail  and  find 
out  how  everything  is  going  in  Clearwater. 

Did  you  know  that  "Torchy's"  visit  to 
Allentown  was  printed  in  the  camp  paper.? 
I  wondered  if  they  had  permission.  If  I 
had  been  back  there  I  might  have  gotten 
a  captain's  commission  on  the  strength  of  it. 


176  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

The  Expeditionary  Forces  have  started 
a  paper  called  The  Stars  and  Stripes.  Palmer, 
the  war  correspondent,  is  the  boss  of  it. 
I  wish  he'd  take  me  on. 

Much  love  and  keep  cheerful  even  if 
peace  does  seem  a  long  way  off. 


Paris,  February  22^  IQ18 
Dear  Family: 

This  is  my  last  night  in  the  hospital  and 
I  honestly  hate  to  go.  But  I  have  certainly 
made  the  most  of  a  little  thing  —  and  now 
I  have  two  weeks'  convalescence  (.^  coming 
to  me.  They  are  sending  me  out  in  the  coun- 
try, which  I  can  tell  you  more  about  after 
I  get  there  tomorrow. 

I've  been  out  for  a  couple  of  days  doing 
a  few  errands.  Yesterday  I  sent  a  cable 
telling  you  of  my  address  change.  Just 
the  section  number.  The  rest  peculiarly 
remains  the  same.  No  wonder  our  mail 
does  queer  things  with  their  thinking  up 
a  new  address  for  us  every  few  days.     Pos- 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING      177 

sibly  they  do  it  to  confuse  the  Germans  and 
make  it  impossible  for  anyone  ever  to  lo- 
cate us. 

I've  had  another  batch  of  mail  and  am 
with  you  up  to  date  of  the  i6th  of  January 
— 'which  seems  quite  recent  considering 
how  things  have  been  going. 


Chantilly,  Sunday,  February  24. 

Well,  I  am  in  clover  now.  There  may 
be  a  war  somewhere  in  France  but  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it. 

To  go  back  and  tell  you  how  it  all  hap- 
pened. I  left  the  hospital  with  many 
regrets  yesterday.  I  went  over  to  head- 
quarters and  received  orders  to  proceed  to 
Chantilly  (Oise)  for  ten  days'  convalescence. 
I  felt  pretty  dubious  about  things.  Met 
Lieutenant  Moore  for  luncheon  and  tried 
to  stall  off  going  —  a  convalescent  home 
didn't  sound  good  to  me.  But  he  said  I 
had  better  make  the  most  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  take  the  rest. 


1 78  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

So  I  took  the  5:04  train  out  of  Paris, 
and  arrived  about  6,  and  took  a  cab  to  the 
Shepards'.  It  was  dark  and  the  train 
looked  gloomy.  Finally  we  pulled  up  in 
front  of  a  rather  pretentious  chateau  and  I 
stumbled  up  to  the  door. 

A  white-capped  maid  ushered  me  into 
the  hall  and  called  to  some  one  off  stage.  A 
merry  feminine  voice  called  back:  "Come 
on  right  in." 

I  certainly  was  surprised  when  I  stepped 
into  a  gorgeous  living  room,  with  10  fellows 
sitting  round  in  luxurious  comfort.  And 
in  the  midst  of  them  was  Mrs.  Elliott  Findley 
Shepard  —  of  the  well-known  American 
family  —  and  her  pretty  young  sister.  Five 
of  the  fellows  I  had  known  at  the  hospital. 
They  all  welcomed  me,  just  as  though  it 
was  a  house-party  of  old  friends  and  I  the 
long-expected  guest. 

And  then  I  began  to  find  out  things. 
It  seems  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shepard  have 
oifered  the  hospitality  of  their  home  to 
any  12  ambulance  men  who  need  a  rest. 
They   take   you   right   into   the   family   and 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 79 

entertain  you  just  as  they  would  the  Duke 
of  Normandy. 

First:  the  meals  —  Banquets,  the  boys 
call  them. 

Recreations  —  you  do  whatever  you  please 
when  you  please.  Breakfast  is  a  bath-robe 
affair,  so  you  can  go  back  to  bed  and  sleep 
until  noon. 

This  afternoon,  the  golfers  started  for  the 
Country  Club  soon  after  luncheon.  I  asked 
no  questions  and  followed  along.  And 
there  was  a  course!  Ask  Mr.  Wright  about 
the  course  at  Chantilly,  one  of  the  best  in 
France.  Mr.  Shepard  is  a  director  of  it 
and  has  had  the  club  opened  and  the  course 
kept  up  just  for  his  10  convalescents. 

I  started  out  in  a  foursome  with  Mr. 
Shepard  and  two  others.  I  counted  on 
playing  about  two  holes,  then  trailing  back 
to  the  club-house  to  recuperate.  After  my 
first  drive  sailed  down  over  the  beautiful 
fairway,  I  allowed  I  might  keep  on  until 
the  fourth.  I  wound  up  by  dropping  my 
last  putt  on  the  7th  for  a  5  —  and  perhaps 
I   don't   feel   like   a   different   man   tonight. 


l8o  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

I   feel  just  as  though   I   had   left  the  army 
forever  and  were  back  home  again. 

And  to  think  that  I  am  to  have  lo  days 


of  It!     It   just   seems   too  wonderful   to   be 
true. 

We  got  back  here  in  time  for  tea  and  now 
the  boys  are  distributed  about  the  house 
—  a  bridge  game  going  on,  the  pianola  with 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     l8l 

ukelele  accompaniment  at  my  right  —  and 
a  corn-popping  match  in  the  kitchen  with 
the    pretty    sister. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shepard  are  the  kind  of 
people  everyone  would  like.  They  make 
you  feel  that  their  kindness  is  just  some- 
thing you  deserve  —  nothing  patronizing 
nor  the  least  bit  charitable.  The  house 
is  full  of  servants,  but  Mrs.  Shepard  rustles 
around  and  sees  that  things  are  done.  Last 
night  she  showed  me  to  my  room,  ran  up- 
stairs for  a  pair  of  pajamas  and  slippers 
and  made  sure  that  I  had  enough  blankets. 

And  the  boys  here  —  I  don't  know  how 
they  picked  them  out,  but  they  are  a  fine 
crowd.  I  imagine  the  Captain  at  head- 
quarters, who  sends  the  convalescent  am- 
bulance men  to  various  points,  sort  of  uses 
his  head  in  the  sending.  I  am  sharing  a 
bedroom  with  two  sons  of  old  Eli.  Then 
there  are  boys  from  California  and  all  over 
the  map.  I  can't  wait  to  get  back  to  the 
Section  to  tell  the  boys  what  they  missed 
by  not  having  an  operation. 

After   I    have  looked    around  town   a   bit, 


1 82  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

I'll  write  you  more  about  the  race-track, 
the  Duke's  chateau,  etc.  But  ask  Mr. 
Wright  about  it.  He  has  probably  been 
here  and  can  fill  in  the  scenery  for  you. 

Anyway  —  you'll  know  I  am  in  clover. 
It  would  take  home  and  America  to  beat 
this.  To  play  golf  again  —  it's  like  waking 
up  after  a  bad  dream. 

There  hasn't  been  much  I've  experienced 
in  France  that  I'd  care  to  share  with  you 
—  but  I  wish  you  were  all  here  to  spend  these 
next  ten  days  with  me. 

War  has  its  ups  and  downs,  after  all! 


The    Elliott    F.    Sbepard   Convalescent   Home. 

Chantilly  (Oise),  February  27 
Dear  Family: 

The  above  is  certainly  a  forbidding-look- 
ing title  for  our  homelike  little  house-party. 
It  all  gets  better  and  more  wonderful  each 
day  —  and  I  grow  more  into  an  ordinary, 
contented,  golf-playing  civiHan.  Yesterday 
afternoon  my  swing  suddenly  came  back  to 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 83 

me  on  the  first  tee  and  I  came  trudging 
home  to  tea  with  9  francs  in  my  pockets, 
accompanied  by  a  Southern  boy  from  Pine- 
hurst  who  swore  he  was  through  with  golf 
for  Hfe.  But  during  the  night  he  discovered 
what  was  the  matter  with  his  game  and  is 
signed  for  a  foursome  apres  le  dejeuner. 

The  Shepards  become  more  and  more 
agreeable  on  further  acquaintance  and  I'd 
be  quite  content  to  tester  Id  for  the  duration 
of  the  war.  And  a  week  from  today  I'll 
be  packing  my  bag  and  speeding  toward 
Alsace  —  but  after  a  week  of  this  I  should 
be  ready  to  go  back. 

Bridge,  golf,  laziness  and  banquet  meals 
is  our  whole  program.  And  the  weather 
is  curiously  perfect.  Yesterday,  with  the 
sun  boiling  down,  I  could  almost  believe 
that  I  was  out  on  the  Belleair  links.  The 
temperature  may  have  been  in  the  50's 
but  it  felt  like  72  degrees  to  me.  Mr.  Shep- 
ard  has  a  wonderful  collection  of  war  pic- 
tures. Marshal  Joffre  had  his  headquarters 
here  for  22  months  and  received  all  the 
allied   heads,   from   the   king  of  Belgium   to 


l84  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Kitchener,  with  Mr.  Shepard  close  by  with 
his  camera  all  the  while.  He  also  knows 
Pershing  and  has  some  rare  pictures  of 
the  arrival  of  the  first  Americans  in  France. 
War  pictures  that  will  interest  a  soldier 
are  some  pictures.  Of  course,  he  took  my 
picture,  which   I   shall   send   anon. 

The   bell   just   tinkled   for   luncheon,   so   I 
will  have  to  save  more  until  later. 


Chantilly,  March  4 
Dear  Family: 

Winter  came  back  on  us  suddenly  Friday 
afternoon,  right  in  the  middle  of  a  glorious 
sixsome.  There  has  been  a  little  snow  falling 
ever  since,  but  it  hardly  rests  on  the  ground 
before  it  melts.  Driven  from  the  links, 
we  have  been  having  almost  as  good  a  time 
with  bridge.  We've  had  one  or  two  tables 
going  at  all  times  and  the  daily  score  is 
bulletined  in  the  hall.  I  hated  to  give  up 
the  golf  because  my  game  was  coming  back 
daily  and  I  enjoyed  every  shot.     Maybe  I'll 


FROM  A  PRIVATE  WITH  PERSHING     185 

get  in  a  last  game  tomorrow  afternoon,  for 
Wednesday    I'm    due    to    rejoin    the    colors. 


And   I    certainly   am   physically   fit,   thanks 
to   golf. 

Saturday  night  we  had  a  party.  Dinner 
at  the  hotel  and  a  dance  afterwards  at  the 
house,  with  the  American  canteen  furnish- 
ing as  many  of  their  girls  as  were  of  eligible 


1 86  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

age.  There  were  five  of  them,  to  be  exact, 
to  divide  up  among  twelve  of  us.  But 
we  had  a  good  time,  almost  an  American 
evening. 

It's  too  bad  there  aren't  more  American 
families  in  France,  so  every  soldier  could 
have  an  occasional  week  of  home-life.  You 
can't  know  what  it  means  after  nine  months 
of  the  gypsy  life.  This  has  my  lo  days 
in  Biarritz  beaten  every  way.  Imagine 
American  meals  here  in  France!  Meat,  po- 
tatoes and  vegetables  all  on  the  same  plate 
at  one  time,  desert  coming  where  it  should 
and  coffee  following  in  the  living  room  in 
regular  civilized  fashion. 

I  really  am  rather  eager  to  get  back  to 
the  section  to  see  the  boys,  get  my  mail, 
have  my  Christmas  and  find  out  how  the 
war  is  going  on.  They  are  in  a  nice,  quiet 
sector  where  nothing  ever  happens.  Prob- 
ably by  the  time  I  get  back  they  will  be 
going  back  for  another  repos.  It's  not 
much  of  the  war  I've  seen  —  nearly  7  months 
in  France  and  only  one  month  in  the  zone 
of  fire.     But   I'd   be   the   last   one   to   kick. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 87 

Back  of  the  lines  is  just  as  interesting  and 
lots    more    comfortable. 

Will  you  write  a  note  to  Mr.  or  Mrs. 
Shepard  thanking  them  for  taking  me.  They 
have  been  so  nice. 


Nancy,  March  7,  IQ18 
Dear  Family: 

It  certainly  is  funny  to  wander  around 
France  by  my  lonesome  after  being  led  by 
the  nose  for  all  these  months.  I'm  indulg- 
ing in  the  mysterious  game  of  hunting 
for  the  boys.  Fm  bound  to  win  in  time, 
of  course  —  but  at  present  Fm  two  days 
out  from  post  and  still  a  good  100  kilo- 
metres from   anyone   I   know. 

I  said  a  tearful  farewell  to  the  Shepards 
yesterday  and  went  into  Paris  to  head- 
quarters for  my  orders.  Spent  the  night 
in  Paris  and  left  on  the  8  o'clock  train  this 
morning.  Had  a  good  luncheon  on  the  train 
and  rather  enjoyed  the  trip.  Saw  Irvin 
Cobb  coiled  up  asleep  when  I  passed  through 


l88  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

to  the  diner.  He  got  off  at  one  of  the  Ameri- 
can  camps. 

We  were  an  hour  and  a  half  late  coming 
into  Nancy,  so,  of  course,  I  missed  my  con- 
nection for  the  south  bound  train,  and 
the  lady  at  the  window  says  the  next  train 
leaves  demain.  So  I  came  up  here  to  a 
very  decent  hotel,  and  have  been  out  view- 
ing what  the  Boche  bombs  have  accomplished 
lately.  It  would  have  been  a  pretty  town 
if  they  hadn't  messed  it  up  so. 

Dinner  will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes  — 
and  then  I'm  going  to  make  an  early  dive 
for  bed  to  be  ready  to  respond  to  a  6:15  call 
in  the  morning  to  catch  a  7:15  train.  It 
should  be  an  interesting  trip  down  through 
the  Vosges,  but  I  would  much  prefer  to 
have  a  travelling  companion. 

This  pen  is  so  bad  that  I  can't  write  any- 
thing but  bare  facts.  Am  feeling  fine.  Hope 
this  spring  weather  continues. 

P.S.  Next  year,  I  hope  to  be  celebrating 
Pop's  birthday  in  quite  another  way. 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     1 89 


March  11 
Dear  Family: 

Here  I  am  back  at  the  front  and  indulg- 
ing in  all  the  luxuries  of  war  de  luxe.  Hon- 
estly you  couldn't  believe  it  unless  you  were 
here  to  see  for  yourself. 

I  got  here  Saturday  noon,  after  a  wonder- 
ful early  morning  drive  through  the  moun- 
tains, and  winding  up  with  an  hour's  ride 
in  a  box  car  of  an  electric  tramway.  At 
the  end  of  the  line  I  got  off.  It  was  a  sleepy 
little  town,  jammed  with  soldiers  and  a 
few  civilians.  And  the  most  wonderful 
spring-like  day  I've  seen  since  last  Septem- 
ber. I  trudged  down  the  road  with  my 
suitcase,  and  around  the  first  corner  ran 
into  an  American  baseball  game.  I  knew 
I  was  home  at  last. 

The  game  broke  up  while  I  tried  to  ex- 
plain to  the  boys  how  I'd  managed  to  keep 
away  for  two  months  and  a  half.  Then  I 
had  luncheon  with  the  Lieutenant  and  after- 
ward he  showed  me  around  the  camp. 


igo  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

We  are  billetted  over  some  half  a  mile, 
but  everyone  is  very  comfortable.  The 
main  building  is  where  the  office,  dining 
room,  kitchen  and  garage  are  located,  with 
baseball  field  adjoining  and  the  football 
field  to  your  right.  The  boys  are  divided 
up  into  the  "chateau  crowd,"  the  "factory 
gang,"  and  the  "lofters,"  according  to  the 
particular  locality  of  their  bunks. 

Then  we  went  to  the  Lieutenant's  room, 
where  my  bed  was  waiting  for  me  —  a  great 
big  room  in  an  old  house,  occupied  by  a 
pleasant  French  woman  and  her  children. 
It  might  seem  like  poverty  if  you  had  to 
live  in  the  room  in  America,  but  here  it  is 
luxury.  The  woman  brings  in  hot  bricks 
every  night  for  our  beds  —  all,  mind  you, 
within  four  miles  of  the  German  lines. 

After  I'd  seen  everything,  I  had  my  mail 
and  my  Christmas.  And  perhaps  it  wasn't 
some  Christmas.  I  think  almost  everything 
that  should  have  arrived  was  here  —  the 
boxes  that  Hazel  packed  and  those  you  sent. 

There  were  so  many  things  that  I  am 
quite  too  excited   to  tell  you   how  much   I 


FROM  A  PRIVATE   WITH  PERSHING     I9I 

appreciated  each  one.  I  have  a  larder  of 
eatables  and  smokes  that  will  make  it  seem 
as  though  I  was  living  right  next  to  Stewart's 
for  the  next  couple  of  months.  If  you  could 
only  have  included  a  couple  of  chocolate 
"sinks,"  the  penalties  of  being  at  war  would 
amount  to  practically  nil. 

The  allotment  of  socks  waiting  for  me 
fills,  as  the  News  would  say,  a  long-felt 
want.  I've  worn  and  reworn  the  two  pairs 
I  started  out  with  until  they  were  about 
through.  And  I  was  glad  to  come  back 
to  a  new  razor  after  hacking  my  face  with 
my  old  tools. 

And  what  package  do  you  think  blew  in 
today  —  the  long-lost  one  you  sent  to 
Allentown  August  7.  It  was  none  the  worse 
for  the  7  months'  trip  and  everything  in  it 
came  in  very  handy.  I  am  what  you  might 
call  long  on  sweaters  just  at  present  —  but 
there  will  be  many  days  when  I  can  put 
on  all  8  of  them  and  be  happy. 

You  have  been  so  good  to  me  that  there 
isn't  a  thing  in  the  world  I  need  —  except, 
and  always,  Fatimas. 


192  CHEER-UP  LETTERS 

Over  here,  I  can  buy  all  the  toilet  articles 
that  are  necessary  for  my  health  and  con- 
sistent with  my  station. 

You  might  look  through  my  trunk  and 
find  a  couple  of  soft  white  shirts  and  two 
suits  of  B.  V.  D.'s,  for  it  will  be  summer 
before  an  answer  to  this  can  reach  me. 

We  have  had  simply  wonderful  weather 
for  the  last  four  days  —  spring-like,  with 
nice  warm  sunshine.  Everyone  is  more 
contented  and  happy  than  at  any  time 
since  we've  been  in  the  army. 

And  why  shouldn't  they  be,  with  very 
light  work  and  everything  running  smoothly.? 
This  front  here  is  almost  a  joke  —  I'll  have 
to  save  telling  you  about  it  until  the  next 
letter. 

With  loads  of  love, 

TORREY 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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